Star Tron: The Black Suits Cometh
by MustangAce
Summary: What happens when the Voltron Force meets Starfleet? You get a whole new adventure. Please R&R.
1. The Adventure Begins

Greetings, All!

This is my first attempt at publishing a fanfic, although I've written many.  The basic premise is a Voltron/Star Trek crossover, but with a few surprises.  So, please R&R, but be aware, while constructive criticism is gratefully appreciated, flames will be shredded and used as litter for my Magby.

That said, enjoy the story.

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are canon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

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Star-Tron: The Black Suits Cometh   
Chapter 1  
At a time of darkness, when evil reigns, a beacon of light will shine through, awakened by five heroes.  But these brave souls would fail, if not for the men in black. 

Princess Allura read the passage several times, trying to discover its hidden meaning.  The ancient prophecy had fascinated her since she was young.  She understood that part of it referred to the Voltron Force, the five pilots that had crossed the universe to resurrect the mighty warrior Voltron, and of whom she was now a member.

But the rest of the passage was puzzling.  Who were these men in black that the prophecy referred to?

The insistent beeping of her communicator broke her train of thought.  She fumbled in her pocket for the annoying device, and answered it.  "Allura here."

"Princess?" said the voice of Commander Keith Mendoza, the leader of the Voltron Force.  "Where are you?  We have practice in ten minutes."

_Oh, no_!  She'd been so wrapped up in her reading that she'd forgotten all about Lion practice.  "Sorry, Keith," she said.  "I've been a little busy.  I'll be right up."

"All right.  Keith out."

Allura left the book where it lay on her desk and hurried out of her study and back to her room to change into her flight suit.

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Captain Adam Driscoll sat at the bar in the Starfleet Headquarters Officers Club, nursing his _raktajino_, glancing over the information on the PADD in his hand.  _Whatever happened to written, sealed orders?_ he thought.  _Now all I get is this glorified Palm Pilot_.

His ship, the U.S.S. _Berlin_, was ready to set out on her new assignment, and Adam would soon be flying up to Spacedock to meet his new crew.  As he thought about his upcoming assignment, he absentmindedly fingered the four rank pips on his collar.  A few weeks earlier, it had been a long oval with four bars on it, the mark of a provo-captain.

Adam was not the average Starfleet officer.  At 16, he was the youngest officer ever to serve in Starfleet, even breaking the record of Wesley Crusher, who made Ensign at just over 16.  But more than that, Driscoll was not even from this time.  He was a relic from the Twentieth Century.  Recruited by an admiral because of his special ability, he was given a provisional rank, which was later made official.

But that power nearly got him killed.  On the time trip from his time to the Twenty-Fourth Century, his power interfered with the time stream, causing him to exit the time-warp a century early.  Luckily, he was found by a Federation ship, and its command crew agreed to train him for command, and then they sent him on his way.

So now he sat, contemplating his ship's new assignment.  The _Berlin_ was to go on patrol, but not for Dominion warships.  The Berlin's targets were subspace disturbances, technically called Subspace Electro-Gravitational Anomalies, but known commonly as subspace tornados.  These recently-identified phenomena had massive destructive power, and Starfleet deemed it essential that these phenomena be poked and prodded in every conceivable way to learn how they tick and, if possible, how to destroy them.

To that end, the _Berlin_ underwent a four-month refit to become Starfleet's first storm-chaser.

Adam downed the rest of his drink and walked out of the bar.  Catching an air-tram from Starfleet Headquarters, he headed for the shuttleport at Miramar to pick up his ride.  One of the perks of command was that he was entitled to his own shuttle.  Except he bent the rules just a bit.  He didn't have a shuttle.  He had a plane.

Near the doors of one of the hangars, among all the modern shuttles, sat a relic of a bygone era.  That relic was attracting a lot of attention from some Red Squad cadets, and it was the captain's objective.

He walked toward the P-51D Mustang, shouldering his way through the cadets as he did his preflight checks.  The plane's nose was painted yellow, and the back half of the fuselage and rudder was gray-blue.  The wings, horizontal stabilizers, and center of the fuselage around the cockpit were bare, gleaming metal.  On the nose, _Thunderwing_ was painted in scripted, black letters.  The fuselage and wings were marked with the star and bar of the United States military in World War Two.

Completing his checks, Adam climbed up on the wing and slid the canopy back.  Normally, he'd put on a flight suit, but for the short hop to Spacedock, he decided on just his leather flying jacket and his helmet.

"Excuse me, what are you doing up there, kid?" one of the cadets asked.

Adam turned and opened his jacket so the cadet could see his rank pips.  "What's that, cadet?"

"Uh, nothing, sir.  Quite an impressive plane."

"That she is," Driscoll replied.  He climbed into the cockpit, strapped in, and hollered, "Clear the prop!"  A moment later, the engine sputtered and roared to life, and the Captain taxied out onto the old runway.

Once airborne, Driscoll set his course straight up.  The Mustang he flew was very special.  It had plenty of special equipment packed into its streamlined airframe.  It could fly in space, do warp five, and its propeller could propel the craft in excess of mach 15.  

It was a short flight to Spacedock.  Because of the demand for space, and since the _Berlin_ was scheduled for departure, she had been moved out of the docking facility, and now sat just beyond the great mushroom-shaped station.

The Mustang approached the great _Excelsior_-class starship, and Adam hailed his vessel.  "_Thunderwing_ to _Berlin_, Captain Driscoll requesting permission to land."

"Permission granted, Captain."

Adam lined his plane up with the shuttlebay doors, switched to thruster control, and made a perfect three-point landing, just as the first officer entered the shuttlebay.

  
  
  
  



	2. Anchors Aweigh

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are canon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.  


  
_Not a whole lot of action in this one.  Mostly backgound, but it's necessary._  


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Star-Tron: The Black Suits Cometh   
Chapter 2  


The tall, green-skinned officer watched the small, ancient aircraft pull into the bay and settle down on its three wheels.  The whirling propeller came to a stop, and the canopy slid back.

Commander Gredar walked towards the craft as its occupant disembarked, climbing onto the wing and jumping down to the deck.  Gredar met his captain near the nose of the aircraft.  "Captain," he said with a nod, but his stiff, Gorn physique made it more of a bow.  

Gredar was the first Gorn officer in Starfleet.  He had participated in a pioneering officer-exchange program between Starfleet and the Gorn Star Navy.  Previously serving as chief operations manager aboard the _U.S.S Dartagnan_, he had sought and secured the position of first officer aboard the _Berlin_.

"Yo, Gredar.  Whassup?"  The captain asked.

"Sir?"

"Sorry, Gredar," Driscoll said, realizing that not everyone understood his usual dialect of Twentieth Century slang and catch phrases.  "Ship status?"

"All crew members are aboard.  Final launch preparations are underway.  We are on schedule for departure in two hours," the Gorn reported, a translator implant in his jaw rendering the hisses and snarls of Gorn language understandable to the captain.

"Okay, cool.  Then let's do a senior staff meeting in one hour, so I can tell everyone about our orders."

"Very well," Gredar rasped.

The captain nodded, then retrieved his duffel from the jumpseat of his plane. As he was heading out, he saw two shuttle techs heading toward _Thunderwing_ with a maintenance cart.  "Yo!  Hold up!"

The two techs looked up as Adam jogged over to them.  "Standing orders, guys.  Nobody touches this plane without my approval, got it?"

The senior of the two, a CPO, nodded.  "Aye, sir.  Request permission to do maintenance on the Captain's plane?"

  
Driscoll shook his head.  "Permission denied.  I'll take care of it.  Just move her out of the way, if you must.  You need the wings folded?"

"That would help, sir," the CPO replied.

"No prob."  Driscoll dropped his duffel and climbed onto the wing, reaching into the cockpit.  Normally, P-51's weren't equipped with wing-folding capability.  However, that was another of the extras that the captain had put in.  Pulling a small lever near the bomb release, he looked out and watched the wings twist up ninety degrees, just outboard of the phasers, and then sweep back parallel to the fuselage, reducing the fighter's wingspan by half.

He climbed back down and retrieved his bag.  "There ya go.  All set?"

"Yes, sir," said the CPO.

Adam nodded.  "Good.  I'll see ya around."  With that, he turned and left the shuttlebay.

********************************************************************************************** 

The five robot lions pulled out of a steep dive into a high-g zoom-climb.  Keith and Lance were able to hold together.  Hunk and Pidge also held together, but they fell out of formation with Lance and Keith.  Allura was late starting her pullout, and was badly out of position.

"Princess, you have to stay in tight with the rest of us," said Keith.  "The whole point of this maneuver is to evade an attack while maintaining the strength of the formation.  If you can't stay with us, Zarkon's ships can single you out."

Allura sighed in frustration.  "I know, Keith.  I'm sorry.  I'll work on the timing more."

"It's okay, Princess.  That's why we have these practices.  Let's try it again, team."  But Keith had something else on his mind.  What he really wanted was for Allura to fly with a wingman.  But with five ships, they didn't have enough to fly in pairs.  Normally, he, Lance, and Sven would have flown as a vic, if need be, and Hunk and Pidge could cover each other.  But now, he didn't know.  Allura's skills were just not as developed as the rest of the team, and she lacked their history.  He hoped he could figure something out soon.

********************************************************************************************

Captain Driscoll walked into sickbay to meet his new chief medical officer.  At the last minute, his old CMO, Dr. Parkley, had come down with Ressikan Swine Flu, and was not able to ship out with the _Berlin_, forcing the captain to request an emergency replacement.

When Adam walked into the CMO's office, he saw a dark-haired man hanging a scimitar on the wall near his desk.  

"Planning on doing some surgery, doc?"  he asked.

The doctor turned around.  His dark hair was parted on the left, and was the same color as the light mustache under his nose.  He had a dark olive complexion, and brown eyes.  "Ah, Captain Driscoll, I presume?  _Salaam alaikum_," he said with a slight bow.

"_Wa alaikum as salaam_, doctor," the younger man replied.  "And you can call me 'Adam'.  I hate formality."

"Very well.  And I am Doctor Richard Saladin, known to my friends as 'the Sheik'."

"Well, Sheik, I just wanted to stop in and meet you before the first staff meeting, which is in one hour, by the way."

Saladin nodded at his desk as the sword settled onto the hangers above it.  "I have Commander Gredar's announcement here.  I have already met all the crew.  Quite the assemblage."

Adam chuckled.  "Tell me about it.  I feel like Kelsey Grammer in 'Down Periscope'."

"Who and what is that?" the doctor asked.

"A movie star and the movie he starred in."

"Ah, I see.  Well, if you'll excuse me, Captain, I have a few more things to do before the meeting."

"Yeah, so do I, actually.  Catch ya later."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir."

Driscoll looked over his shoulder.  "You too, Sheik," and left sickbay.

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An hour later, the senior staff of the _Berlin_ gathered in the main conference room, and the captain surveyed the assembly around the long, black table.  Adam sat at the head of the table.  To his right was Gredar in a special, armless chair.  On his left sat Lieutenant-Commander Tina Jacobs, known as T.J.  The tall, blond woman was the second officer and security chief, as well as the primary tactical officer.  Next to Gredar sat the Puerto Rican operations chief, Maria Singh.  Beside her was Lieutenant J.G. Michael Curtis, a talented young officer from Alabama, who was the chief helmsman.    

Next to Jacobs was Dr. Saladin, and beside him was Lieutenant Mordock, the Benzite science officer.  That made seven out of eight.  The only one missing was Ben Querat, the chief engineer, and the only remaining senior officer from Adam's original command.

The captain was busy speaking with Gredar, comparing notes on their orders, when he heard the door open.  _Ah, good, Ben's here,_ he thought.  But what he heard next was _not_ the mellow voice of his chief engineer.

"I'm sorry I'm late, but there was a wee problem with the warp core," the newcomer said in a Scottish brogue.

Driscoll's head snapped up, and he almost didn't believe his eyes.  At first he thought he was seeing a ghost, before he remembered the incident with the _Jenolan_.  Still, it had been a long time since he'd been in the presence of James T. Kirk's chief engineer.  The engineer would have said ninety years.  Adam, only two.

"Scotty!" the Captain exclaimed.  "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Well, Adam, yer Commander Querat go' a last-minute transfer to the _Tecumseh_, and seein' as I was in the area, I took the position.  Besides, with the damn-fool ride you're goin' on, ye'll need a good hand." 

"That we will, Scotty.  Now, speaking of that, Commander Gredar and I will brief you all on our orders."

Captain and XO briefed the crew on their assignment, to patrol for subspace tornadoes and probe them to determine how they are caused, how to stop them, if possible, and how to detect them.  The current warning time was three seconds, hardly enough even to take evasive action.

With the briefing concluded, Adam instructed Gredar to post their orders for the crew to review, and everyone went to their stations to prepare for departure.

********************************************************************************************** 

On Planet Doom, Zarkon was conferring with Hagar about the status of her latest robeast.  As usual, she had promised that this one was bigger and better than the last, which was bigger and better than the one before that, and so on.  So, when she promised once again that Voltron would meet his end this time, the King of Doom was more than a little skeptical.  And as Hagar finished making her latest sales pitch, Zarkon told her what he thought in no uncertain terms.

"That's almost the same speech you gave me the last time, witch," Zarkon chided.  "I don't want pretty words.  I want results, and you have yet to produce them.  My patience is wearing thin, Hagar."

"I have reviewed this robeast myself, Father," said Prince Lotor, who stood at the foot of Zarkon's throne pedestal with the witch.  "This is indeed her most powerful robeast.  I guarantee you victory."

"Like you did with the last one?"

Lotor was dumbstruck.  With a single sentence, Zarkon had completely derailed his train of thought.

"I'll tell you this, Lotor.  This had better work, or you may not live to regret it."

********************************************************************************************** 

Captain Driscoll looked around the bridge as he settled into his chair.  On his right, Gredar was seated in an armless chair like the one he used in the conference room, owing to his large size.  Behind the two senior officers was the tactical station, manned by Lieutenant-Commander Jacobs.  At the front of the bridge and to the left was Lieutenant Singh at the Ops console, and Lieutenant Curtis was to the right of her at the helm.  Behind and to the right of Gredar was the science station, manned by Lieutenant Mordock.  The other stations around the bridge were occupied by a few ensigns and NCO's.

"Spacedock has cleared us for departure, sir," Jacobs reported.

"Thank you, T.J," Driscoll said.  Because of his distaste for pointless formalities, he preferred to use first names and nicknames with his crew, to foster a greater sense of camaraderie.  Thus far, he'd met with few objections.  "Mr. Curtis, break orbit.  Impulse power, all ahead one-half."

"Aye, sir, all ahead one-half impulse."  Curtis was caught off guard by his captain's use of traditional nautical terminology when issuing the order, but didn't miss a beat.

The starship left Earth orbit, heading out into the solar system.  Once past Mars, the _Berlin_ accelerated to full impulse, until they reached Jupiter.

"Jupiter Station reports clear space ahead.  We are authorized for warp speed," Jacobs said.

"Very well," said Adam.  "Bridge to engineering."

"Scott here."

"Scotty, are the mains ready for action?"

"Ready when you are, sir.  Just give the word."

Driscoll smiled.  "The word is given, Scotty.  Prepare for warp speed."  
  


"With pleasure, sir."

"Mr. Curtis, set course for the Hekaras Corridor, warp speed.  All ahead two-thirds."

Curtis punched the orders into his console.  "Course and speed laid in."

"Then let's kick it into gear.  Engage."

On her captain's order, the _Starship Berlin_ raced off at warp six.  Her mission had begun.

  
  
  



	3. Encounter and Endangerment

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are canon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.  I also don't own the songs mentioned.

And thanks to RedLion for the encouraging reviews.  
  


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Star-Tron: The Black Suits Cometh   


Chapter 3   


Lieutenant-Commander Jacobs watched as _Thunderwing _executed a high-side attack on the running light on the _Berlin_'s port nacelle, then barrel-rolled around the engine and attacked the underside-port saucer running light.

It was just before 0700 hours, and the captain was on his usual morning flight.  The _Berlin_ had been on patrol for three weeks, without so much as a flitter of a subspace tornado on the sensors.  The ship had started near the Hekaras Corridor, and had been working its way toward Earth, staying in well-traveled space, which was where the captain expected to find the disturbances.  Early on, Captain Driscoll had settled into a routine of taking his plane out in the morning before his duty shift started.  Jacobs, who liked to start her shift early, had gotten into the habit of watching her young commanding officer in his daily exercises.

As she performed her usual checks on the ship's security and defensive systems, she kept an eye on her captain.  So engrossed was she that she didn't notice Gredar arrive on the bridge and step up behind her.  "What is it, Commander?" the Gorn asked.

Jacobs jumped and turned to face the first officer.  "Uh, nothing, sir.  Just doing some routine diagnostics."  Gredar had established himself as a strict and businesslike officer, and didn't abide distractions.

He looked at the display on Jacobs' board.  Jacobs herself looked down just in time to see _Thunderwing _attack the forward-dorsal running light, and then strafe the light just behind the bridge, fast and low.

"I've got to hand it to him, sir, he's good," said Jacobs.  She, along with most of the crew, had been a little resentful of being under the command of an officer who was younger than any of them.  However, after seeing how he handled his plane, Jacobs was beginning to give the young captain some credit.

"So it seems, Commander," Gredar rasped.  "However, it takes more than flying skill to command a starship."

Jacobs nodded as Gredar walked around her station and began to check the other duty stations on the bridge.  She had long ago concluded that the _Berlin_ could run the _Enterprise_ a merry chase as the strangest ship in the fleet, with her teenage captain, Gorn XO, and her mission to track and chase subspace anomalies.

Just then, her console beeped, and a light indicated an incoming message.  She accepted it, and ran it through the decoding and descrambling protocols.  With the Dominion War and the recent Borg threats, Starfleet was encoding everything.

Before even finishing the message, she punched a control, hailing the Mustang buzzing the ship, and called Gredar over.  The Gorn reached her as the captain said,  "_Driscoll here, go ahead._"

"Captain, Starfleet reports a Subspace Electro-Gravitational Anomaly near Proxima Centauri," said Jacobs.

"Can we make it?"

Gredar and Jacobs looked at Mordock, who was already calculating the answer.  After a few moments, the Benzite looked up.  "Yes we can.  At maximum warp, we can be there early tomorrow."

"Tell Mr. Curtis to set a course for the disturbance, and engage on my signal.  I'm coming aboard."

"Aye, sir," Jacobs replied.  She closed the channel and relayed the orders to the helmsman.

A few minutes later, Driscoll jogged off the turbolift, still wearing his leather jacket and flying gear.  "Mr. Curtis?"

"Course laid in, sir."

"Warp speed, all ahead flank.  Engage."  The captain settled into his chair and tapped a control on the arm.  "Bridge to engineering."

"Scott here."

"Scotty, I need all the speed you can give us, red line be damned.  We've got a twister near Proxima Centauri," said Driscoll.

"Aye, sir, I'll give ya all I got."

"Thanks, Scotty."

"Mr. Curtis, maintain best possible speed at all times."

"Yes, sir.  Passing warp 9.5. . . 9.6. . . 9.65. . . 9.7. . ."

As Curtis read off the increasing warp numbers, Driscoll was grateful for the Highland Miracle Worker in his engine room.  
  


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"How long until we reach Arus?" Lotor asked.  He was pacing the bridge of his command ship nervously.  He was eager to launch his latest robeast against Voltron.  It had taken Hagar weeks to perfect it, and they both had the utmost confidence in the witch's latest creation.  Of course, the true test would be in the heat of battle against the greatest robot in the history of the universe.

"Four more hours, my Prince," one of the robot crewmen replied.

Lotor cursed under his breath.  Four hours.  It seemed like an eternity.  But even so, it was only four hours until all his dreams came true.  He would be rid of Voltron, the only thing that could stand up to the forces of Doom.  He would have Arus, and with it, his beloved Allura.

In only four short hours.  So soon, and yet, still an eternity.

  
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"Approaching the disturbance, Captain," Mordock announced.

"Match course and speed.  Sound general quarters.  All hands to battle stations.  Alert the shuttlebay to load probes onto the _Dorothy_,the_ Scarecrow_, and _Thunderwing_ and prepare to deploy."

The rapid barrage of orders was quickly relayed and carried out by the crewmen on the bridge.  The _Dorothy_ and _Scarecrow_ were the _Berlin_'s two type-9 shuttles, and were modified to carry the large probes to be used on the subspace tornadoes.  The other shuttles were type-15 shuttlepods named _Tin Man, Cowardly Lion_, and _Toto_.  The shuttles had originally been named after famous German scientists, but the crew had decided that the new names were more appropriate, given the starship's mission.

"I have a visual," Mordock announced.

"On screen," Gredar ordered.  

On the main viewer, a nebulous, blue cloud loomed like a strange, translucent cotton ball.  It crackled and flashed with energy discharges at all levels, and it was ringed by a debris field of meteors, space junk, and other space flotsam it had accumulated along the way.

"Mordock, what's the class on that thing?"

Mordock consulted his instruments for a moment before replying, "Class four, sir.  It is the size of Earth's moon, and the energy discharges are equal to one thousand isotons or more."

"_Dios mio_." Singh breathed.

"Amen to that, Lieutenant.  Gredar, you have the bridge."  Driscoll rose and headed for the turbolift.    


  
He made his way quickly to the shuttlebay and his plane, which had just had a probe attached to the rack under the starboard wing.  On the port wing was a single-shot torpedo launcher, as per the captain's specs.  He retrieved his helmet from his locker, and climbed into his plane as he pulled it on and fastened his oxygen mask.

He started the P-51's engine and rolled out of the bay, immediately jumping to warp four to keep pace with the tornado.  The two shuttles were right behind him, and the three craft formed up in a vee with _Thunderwing_ at the head.

"Everyone on the same channel?"  the captain asked.

"_Dorothy, _Lieutenant Jackson here, sir."

"_Scarecrow,_ Ensign Falstaff."

"We read you, _Thunderwing_," said Jacobs.

"Okay, here's the plan.  I'll make the first pass.  Then _Dorothy _and _Scarecrow_.  First one whose probe gets data out buys the drinks.  Mordock, watch your sensors.  Let us know if that thing so much as twitches odd."

"Aye, sir," Mordock replied over the open comm channel.

"Okay, boys, let's rock."  Driscoll hit a switch on his holographic instrument panel, which he used for warp and impulse flight, and Kenny Loggins' "Danger Zone" drifted over the comm.

The three small craft headed in while the starship hung back to monitor.  As they closed, they started to shudder slightly as a result of the gravity.  But when an energy bolt passed through the formation, they decided they were close enough.

"Okay, guys, I'm starting my run.  Tallyho!" Driscoll announced.  He rolled onto his course toward the center of the anomaly and readied his probe.  The gigantic device, four times the size of a photon torpedo, was specially equipped and armored to withstand the forces inside the anomaly, reach the center, and return detailed readings to the ship.

The old fighter barreled into the cloud, dodging energy bursts and gravitational eddies. Finally, the forces became too intense and Driscoll decided to launch the probe.  He squeezed the trigger on his control stick and pulled out as the probe hurtled into the tornado.  As he egressed, he monitored the probe's progress, until it was destroyed by an energy discharge without reaching its target spot.

"Damn!" Driscoll grunted as he rejoined the shuttles.  "No dice, guys.  Your turn, _Dorothy_."

"Roger, going in," Jackson replied, beginning his run.

Neither _Dorothy _nor_ Scarecrow _had any better luck.  But as the third shuttle rejoined the formation, Mordock piped in.  "Captain, we have a problem."  
  


"Define 'problem', Mordock," Driscoll replied.

"The probes somehow caused the anomaly to shift.  It's on a direct course for Earth, and it is accelerating."

"Are you sure?" Driscoll demanded.

"Yes, sir."

The captain cursed violently.  "Everybody back to the ship.  _Berlin_, prepare to match the tornado's course and speed as soon as we're all aboard."

"Aye, sir," came Gredar's reply.

  
  
  



	4. Arrival

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

_****************************************************************************************** _

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

Chapter 4 

The Voltron Force was hanging around in the lounge in the castle.  Keith and Lance had their heads together, talking strategy, while Pidge and Hunk tried to teach Allura how to play poker.  Unfortunately for them, she was a quick study, and Hunk was looking at a very lean week, having lost his next five desserts to the princess.  Pidge wasn't much better off.  He had stuck with betting cash, and now owed Allura enough for a new dress.

But, as was so often the case, the tranquil moment was too good to last.  With an ear-shattering howl, the castle alarms went off.  The Voltron Force, like the crack pilots they were, rushed to the control room without a word, except for Lance, who muttered, "Here we go again."

When they got to the control room, they found Coran where he always was, at the central console, checking the sensors and evaluating the data.

"What have we got, Coran?" Keith asked.

"One Doom command ship, escorted by fighters.  They have already deployed a robeast, and it is heading this way."

"Okay, team, to the launch tubes!"

Without looking away from the sensors, Coran hit the control to raise the central console, revealing the entrances to the launch tubes.  The five pilots ran forward and leapt into their tubes, grabbing the handle bar and riding down to the trams that would take them to their lions.

Within seconds, all five lions were manned, and Keith commanded, "Insert keys."

"Keys set!" the pilots chorused as they placed their keys into the slots on their panels, activating the lions.

As soon as the lions were powered up, they took off from their hiding places, formed up over the castle, and headed out to face the robeast.  


***********************************************************************************************  
 

"Captain?"

"Talk to me, Mordock," Driscoll replied.

"I have finished calculating the tornado's trajectory," the Benzite replied from the science station.  "If it continues to accelerate at this rate, it will reach Earth in exactly six hours, thirty-two minutes, and…"

"Okay, so six-and-a-half hours.  How do we stop it?" Driscoll said, cutting off his science officer.

"I don't know, sir."

"Not good enough, Lieutenant.  We need options, people.  Anybody got anything?  I don't care how ridiculous you think it is."

There was silence for a few minutes, until Jacobs said, "Skipper?"

"Go, T.J." Driscoll acknowledged her.

"What about a torpedo?  If one of the probes can deflect the anomaly's course, a full-yield photon torpedo should be able to do it better."

"Okay, but how do we get it through the gravitational eddies and energy discharges?"  Driscoll stood and leaned on the tactical console, facing his security chief.

Jacobs was silent.  Her brow creased in thought.  After a few minutes, she looked at Driscoll and shook her head.  "I don't know."

The captain looked at her, nodded, and sat back down in his seat.  He assumed his usual posture, half-slouched and leaning on the left arm rest, and began to think.  Jacobs' idea of a torpedo was good, but he knew that the photon would never survive long enough to get into the anomaly.  It would either be destroyed or swept into the debris field, and would have little effect on the tornado's course.

But they had to come up with something.  Nearly ten billion people were counting on them.

"Mr. Curtis, increase to flank and try to pass this thing."  
  


"Aye, sir," Curtis replied.

"Sir, should I alert Starfleet Command?" Jacobs asked.

The captain glanced at his first officer, and could read Gredar's opinion on his harsh, reptilian features.  Protocol demanded that Starfleet be notified.

"No, T.J.  We won't alert command.  They probably know already, and if not, what's the point?  There's nothing they can do.  But keep an eye out for any ships on our path, and warn them away."

"Aye, sir," Jacobs replied.  To herself, she was cursing the young officer.  Don't alert command?  What was the idiot thinking?  They could evacuate…

Then it hit her.  Evacuate ten billion people in six hours?  There was no way they could do it.  Maybe it was the best course after all.  Avoid panic.  And Starfleet probably did already know about it.

So it was up to the _Berlin_ and her crew to save Earth.  Yes, the _Berlin _could run the _Enterprise_ a merry chase indeed.

************************************************************************************************ 

The five robot lions flew toward the robeast at supersonic speed.  The hideous robotic construct was fast approaching one of the villages that surrounded the Castle of Lions, and the townspeople were fleeing before it.

"Okay, team, when we get into range, we'll scatter and attack it from all sides at once," said Keith.  "We have to keep it out of the village."

Four different acknowledgements came over Keith's radio, and he knew his team was ready.  The commander turned his attention back to the ugly task at hand, and got his first good look at Hagar's latest creation.

It was a sickly olive green overall, with a face like a walrus.  It had tiny, blood-red eyes and huge, black tusks that oozed some sort of bluish fluid.  The body was boxy, with muscular arms and legs.  Two cannons were attached to its back, and some sort of projectile launchers were attached to the wrists.  Its feet were like talons, with two spike-like toes facing forward, and one facing back.  There were vein-like tubules and patches on the robeast that were a vomit-green color. 

"Ugh, somebody should sign him up for the next horror flick," said Hunk.

"That's a perfect ten on my ugly robot scale," Pidge added.

"No argument there," said Keith.  "Prepare to attack on my command."

Watching from hic command ship, Lotor saw the five lions move into attack position.  "Now," he commanded, "the growth ray, quickly!"

"Right away, my Prince," one of the guards replied with a bow.

Lance had just blasted the robeast with his flamethrower when he saw the command ship move into position.  "Look out, guys, that thing's about to get a whole lot uglier," he said, as the ray hit the robeast.

"Then we'd better keep pace with him," said Keith, watching the lights on his heads-up display flash.  "Ready to form Voltron!  Activate interlocks.  Dynotherms connected.  Infracells up.  Megathrusters are go!"

"Let's go Voltron Force!"  the pilots chorused.  They formed up on Keith and flew straight up as the commander dictated the formation sequence.

"Form feet and legs," Keith ordered, and Blue and Yellow Lions tucked in their legs and stood on their chins.  "Form arms and body."  Red and Green Lions tucked their legs in and Black Lion's front legs disappeared, while its back legs stretched out behind it.  Blue Lion attached to Black Lion's right leg, and Yellow Lion attached to the left.  Red and Green Lions attached themselves to Black Lion's shoulders.

"And I'll form the head," Keith announced, as the head of Black Lion changed to become the head and helmet of Voltron, Defender of the Universe.  With an earth-shattering roar, the formation sequence completed, and the great warrior stood facing his foe.

But the robeast had changed, too.  The cannons on its back had moved to its shoulders, and it had sprouted guns on its chest, an extra set of arms, and the launchers on its wrists had enlarged and multiplied.  Each wrist now had three launchers, for a total of twelve.  And all of that was added to the increase in size and strength that accompanied the growth ray.

But Keith was unfazed.  "Let's get 'im, team.  Eyebeams!" he announced as two yellow beams of light shot from Voltron's eyes and speared the robeast in the chest, knocking it back.

The robeast was far from defeated, though.  It answered back with a salvo from the launchers on its two left arms.

"Defend!" Keith ordered.  Voltron ducked to the right, his left arm coming up to ward off the attack.  Green Lion took the full force of the hit.

"Pidge, are you all right?" Allura asked. 

"Just fine, Princess," the boy replied.

"Hey, where'd he go?" Hunk asked.

Voltron looked around, and then up, just in time to see the robeast coming straight at him, leg outstretched to deliver a kick.

_This is not going to be good, _Lance thought as Voltron's right arm came up to ward off the blow.

*********************************************************************************************** 

The _Starship Berlin_ raced on, the subspace tornado close behind, and gaining.

"Captain," said Lt. Singh from the ops console.  "At its present rate of acceleration, the anomaly will overtake us in approximately twenty-six minutes, forty-seven seconds."

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Driscoll replied.  "Mr. Curtis, plot an escape vector that will lead us clear of that beast as soon as possible and stand by to engage."

"Aye, sir," Curtis replied, already examining possible escape vectors.

"Mordock, any idea how to stick a torpedo in this thing?"

The Benzite swiveled around to face the young captain.  "Unfortunately, no sir.  The storm gains strength as it accelerates, and any calculations I make are useless before I finish them."

"Can't you account for the increases?"

"No, sir.  There is no regularity to them whatsoever."

"Dammit."  Driscoll slumped back in his chair, then sat up.  The anomaly was less than two hours from Earth, and there was nothing they could do about it.  In another half hour, they would fall hopelessly behind, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Or was there?

The idea hit Adam like a bolt of lightning.  He just might be able to do something, but it would mean blowing the lid off of a secret he'd hoped to keep to himself.  But what was the alternative?  The destruction of the Earth, and the central command and government of the United Federation of Planets in the middle of a war that was already not going well.

But could he do it?  He had only used his power on himself thus far.  Now, he was thinking about controlling a force of nature, and transporting it and the _Berlin_.

But he had no choice.

He rose from his chair.  "Lieutenant Curtis, move us back behind the tornado.  Hold distance at five hundred thousand kilometers.  And you are to hold that course.  Understood?"

"Yes, sir."  


  
The captain sat back down, then rose again.  "Gredar, a word, please?"

The Gorn rose and accompanied the captain to the turbolift, and then to Driscoll's ready room on deck two.

Gredar stood there, waiting for the captain to speak.  Driscoll took a moment, then announced, "I'm letting you know now.  I'm gonna try to use a wormhole to deflect the tornado.  This is not open to debate.  It's the only chance we got."

Gredar was known to be less than accepting of the captain, but now, his only answer was an observation.  "There are none in this region."

"Not yet, Gredar, but there will be.  I've told you about my…ability."

"Not in detail," the Gorn replied, almost sounding disinterested, even though neither his growls nor their translation conveyed any voice inflections.

"Well, I'll give you a full briefing as soon as we've dealt with that thing."

Gredar only nodded, or bowed, depending on your perspective, and the two officers returned to the bridge.

Stepping off of the turbolift, Driscoll called out, "Mike, are we in position?"

"Yes, sir, we are holding position five hundred thousand kilometers behind the anomaly."

"Very good.  Hold this course.  Do NOT deviate under any circumstances, got it?"

"Aye."

"Okay, people, listen up.  Something very funky is about to go down.  Just do your jobs and don't sweat it."  Driscoll glanced at Gredar and muttered, "Here we go."

Despite the captain's directive, all eyes were riveted on him, except for Curtis'.  Adam closed his eyes in concentration, and stretched his hand forward, as though reaching for something.  He clenched his fist, and then, frowning deeply, he slowly opened it. 

In front of the anomaly, a wormhole opened, blossoming into existence like an exotic flower.  But before anyone could admire its spectacular beauty, they entered it.  The ship and the anomaly it was following were engulfed in the swirling, blue vortex.

And as soon as they were in it, they were out again, once more surrounded by a starfield.  Ahead was a shining, blue planet, obviously class M.

"Captain," Mordock called out.  Driscoll rose and turned to face the blue-skinned officer.  "The anomaly has dissipated.  The wormhole disrupted it, and it dispersed as soon as it exited the wormhole.  I'm reading a great deal of debris, but no other anomalies."

A cheer erupted on the bridge, as Jacobs said, "Just in time, too.  It almost hit Earth."

"Commander, that's not Earth," said Singh.

The bridge fell silent, and a second later, Mordock said, "Confirmed.  That planet is not Earth.  Furthermore, there is no record of it in our data banks."

"So where are we?" Jacobs asked.

"Not in the Milky Way Galaxy," Curtis replied.  "I've got no navigational reference points."

A silence descended on the bridge.  For a while, no one spoke.  Then, Mordock announced, "I'm detecting weapons fire on the planet's surface."

"Onscreen," Gredar hissed.  The image on the forward viewer changed from one of the planet to a close-up of the surface, where a giant robot resembling a multicolored Viking was battling a two-legged, four-armed, walrus-like beast.

Driscoll recognized the situation at once, and gaped.  _No, it can't be, _he thought, but he knew that it was.  He leaped from his seat.  "Gredar, you have the ship," he announced as he hit his combadge.  "Driscoll to shuttlebay, load _Thunderwing _with two photons and prepare for launch."  The captain rushed from the bridge as Jacobs asked, "What the hell is going on?"

  
  



	5. Assistance and Alliance

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock and Scotty.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh  


  
Chapter 5 

Driscoll reached the shuttlebay and ran to his locker, donning his jumpsuit, helmet, and leather flight jacket.  The technicians had just finished hanging the second torpedo under his fighter's wing as the captain climbed aboard and strapped in.

With engine roaring, _Thunderwing_ raced from the _Berlin_'s shuttlebay and headed down toward the planet below.  

As he broke through the atmosphere, a fireball engulfed the fighter, and Driscoll heard Gredar's voice hiss through his headset.  "Captain, I must advise caution.  Your actions are unwise."

"Noted, Commander.  I've already activated my stealth systems.  I want you to put the ship on silent running.  We will maintain communication through microburst transmissions."

"Aye, sir.  Gredar out."

Coming out of the fireball, Driscoll locked his sensors onto the dueling robots just as the green robot shot several missiles at the Technicolor Viking bot, which deflected the shots with its left arm.  _Ooh, that had to hurt_, he thought, as he began to circle several miles above the battle zone.

But the green beast wasn't done yet.  As the Viking robot turned back to face it, it jumped up and delivered a vicious ninja-kick.  The Viking robot blocked with its right arm, and was knocked down.  Before it could recover, the walrus-beast jumped and pinned it down, and pointed two of its arms, each equipped with missile launchers, at the Viking's head.

Adam didn't even think.  Instinctively, he flicked on his rock music, armed his torpedoes, and rolled into a dive-bombing run.  

************************************************************************************************

  
Keith gritted his teeth against the pain in his wrists as the control yoke wrenched under the force of the robeast's attack.  

"Keith!  We've got problems!" Hunk called from Yellow Lion.  Keith didn't bother to reply as the robeast brought two of its lethal, missile-equipped arms to bear on Voltron's head.  The situation seemed hopeless.  Voltron was pinned down, and there was no time to do anything about it.

Suddenly, there was a fiery glow behind the robeast as the creature leapt back, howling in pain and clutching at its back.  Voltron quickly got to his feet and stepped back from the robeast.

"What the heck was that?" Lance demanded.  

"There's a small craft circling the area, Keith," Pidge chimed in.  "That must be what saved us."

Suddenly, the robeast charged, and Keith's attention returned to the job at hand.  "All right, team.  Form Blazing Sword!"

Voltron's right and left hands came together.  As they parted, a glowing ribbon of energy spread between them, and quickly coalesced into Voltron's most powerful weapon.  The robot raised the sword over his head, and awaited Keith's order.

As the robeast drew near, Keith announced, "Strike!"  The sword swung down on the robeast, which put up one of its arms to block the blow, and used the other three to punch Voltron back.  But before the robeast could capitalize on its position, the fighter swooped down and strafed it, drawing its attention away from Voltron.  This allowed Voltron to recover and prepare for another attack.

"Whoever that guy is, I like him," said Lance.

"He's not bad, either," said Hunk as the robeast shot several missiles at the fighter, which nimbly dodged them before making another strafing attack on the robeast.

"Now, while he's distracted, attack." Keith ordered.  Voltron rushed the robeast, but his attack was deflected again.  

Thus the battle raged on.  The robeast attacked, Voltron dodged, the fighter strafed, Voltron attacked, the robeast blocked.  Seconds became minutes, became five, ten.  But Voltron was beginning to weaken.  His power was fading, but the robeast was still going strong.

*************************************************************************************************

_  
Thunderwing_ wasn't faring much better.  Though he still had plenty of fuel, Captain Driscoll was losing power in his phasers.  Two power cells were already exhausted, and a third was nearly dead.  Besides that, the robeast had managed to score some damage by detonating its missiles near the Mustang.  This had weakened the P-51's shields and caused some structural damage.

From his perch above the battle, things seemed grim.  Adam could see that Voltron was tiring.  No matter what, he just couldn't seem to get an edge.  The two photon torpedoes that the captain had dropped on the robeast had only distracted it, and his phasers' effect was negligible.  It was getting so that the robeast almost ignored his attacks.  The best he could do was to try to keep the robeast's attention, and hope that Voltron could do something about the robeast.

Even when Voltron did manage to land a blow, though, the robeast shook it off.  It seemed that Voltron had met his match.

Then, something remarkable happened.

************************************************************************************************

  
Keith was running out of ideas.  No matter what they tried, the robeast stayed one step ahead of them, and with Voltron's power dropping, the situation was looking ever more hopeless, even to the innovative Commander.

Then, from nowhere, the face of a man appeared on the Voltron Force's viewscreens.  He had brown hair and a beard, and wore the robes of royalty.

"Father?" Allura breathed.

The spirit of King Alfor had appeared to help the Voltron Force before, and now his presence was most welcome.

"The danger you face is most grave," Alfor said.  "But the answer is right before your eyes.  The power you need to defeat this monster lies with your new ally.  You need only to call upon it."

"How, Father?  How do we call on it?"

"Keith must command it to interface with Voltron.  I can tell you no more," the ghost said, beginning to fade.  "Farewell."

"Command what to interface?" Pidge asked as Voltron dodged another attack.

"The answer is right before our eyes," Allura mused.  She glanced up as the fighter made another attack, this time only three weapons firing.  The plane passed near enough for her to make out the name on the nose.  Then, it hit her.

"Keith!  It's that fighter!" she called.  "You have to command that fighter to interface with us."

"Okay, I'll try it," said Keith.  "Does that thing have a name?"  
  


"It says 'Thunderwing' on the nose."

"Okay, here goes," Keith said.

*************************************************************************************************

  
The Voltron Force were not the only ones to receive attention from the former King of Arus.  He spoke to the young fighter pilot as well.  Appearing on Driscoll's windscreen, he said, "I am King Alfor, former ruler of this planet.  I have come to tell you that you will soon be called upon to assist."

"I'm already assisting.  I've gone through two torpedoes and three power cells."  He paused as another phaser stopped firing.  "Make that four.  I'm almost out of ammo, I've got damage, and I'm not even scratching that thing."

"You will be called.  Be ready."  And with that, Alfor was gone.

_Pushy ghost.  What the hell was he talking about?_ The captain wondered.

Suddenly, Driscoll heard a voice call out, "Thunderwing, interface!"

_Screwy spook messed with my comms!_ Adam realized.  But then he remembered what Alfor had said.  He had just been called.

He dove toward Voltron.  As he drew nearer, he felt a tractor beam lock on and pull him toward the robot warrior's back.  At first, he thought he was going to crash, until he saw a small bay open in the robot's back.  Instinctively, he folded his aircraft's wings as it slid into the bay, and the doors above him closed.  He looked at his panel, and saw that his holographic interfaces had activated, showing Voltron's stats.  The robot's power levels were falling steadily.

"Okay, damage, power's dropping, first thing's first." Driscoll rerouted his warp reactor's output through the circuit taps and into Voltron.

*************************************************************************************************

  
"Keith, our power level's going off the scale!" Pidge announced.  "We're back up to a hundred percent and then some!"

"What's that thing got under its hood?" Hunk asked.

"You can ask him later, Hunk," Keith replied.  "Right now, we've got a big, ugly problem to deal with."

"Yeah, but what do we do about it?" Lance asked.  "We can't even get a single swipe at it."

At that point, Driscoll chimed in from his place in Voltron's back.  "Voltron leader, this is _Thunderwing_.  Suggest you abandon slashing attacks.  That thing's arms are solid armor."

Keith considered this a moment as the robeast prepared to launch another attack, and then the answer came to him as the robeast began to charge.  "We'll use his own tactic against him," he said.  "Aim!" he commanded, and Voltron pointed the Blazing Sword at the robeast.  "And, charge!"  

Voltron surged ahead, charging down the oncoming robeast.  The two closed the distance quickly, and before the robeast could do anything, Voltron had run it through, his sword piercing the robeast's armored chest.

Voltron pulled the Blazing Sword from the robeast and jumped clear as Lotor's latest creation exploded in a mushroom cloud of flame and debris.

*************************************************************************************************

  
"WHAT!?" Hagar gasped.  "It isn't possible!"

"You lying old witch!  You said that robeast was unbeatable!" Lotor bellowed in rage.

"It was, sire," Hagar defended.  "If you hadn't been so impatient to launch the robeast, and waited until dark…"  
  


"Enough!" the prince shouted.  "Full retreat!  Back to planet Doom!" he commanded as he settled into his command station, already planning the explanation he would offer his father. 

*************************************************************************************************

On Arus, the six vehicles had separated, and were now flying in a vee formation back toward the Castle of Lions.  Naturally, the newcomer was the main target of attention during the flight.

"Thanks, _Thunderwing_," said Keith.  "We appreciate the assist."

"Not a problem, Commander," replied the Mustang's pilot.  "I was just in the area and thought I could lend a hand."

"We're glad you did," said Allura.  "As a token of our appreciation, I'd like to invite you to join us for dinner tonight in the castle."

"I'd be most grateful, Your Highness, but first, I must withdraw to make repairs.  But I will gladly return later this evening.  And if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to bring two of my friends."

"Of course.  Are they pilots too?" Allura asked.

"You could say that," the mystery pilot replied.  "Anyway, I'll return in four hours.  Until then, _adios_."

"Wait, we don't even know your name!" Pidge called.

"Just call me 'Dinoman'."  The Mustang driver replied, before breaking formation and rocketing up into the sky.

  
  



	6. Plans

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

  
Chapter 6

"Thunderwing _to _Berlin_, request permission to land_."

"Permission granted, _Thunderwing_," Lieutenant Singh replied.  "You're clear to come aboard."

Everyone on the starship's bridge was eager to hear the captain's account of the battle they'd just witnessed.  Seeing him in action both here and with the subspace anomaly had by and large dispelled their doubts about his capabilities.

Gredar, however, remained unswayed.

The Gorn maintained a more critical view of his commanding officer.  He didn't approve of the captain's laid-back command style and gung-ho attitude.  But still, he had supported Driscoll, because that was his job.

Until now.

Where the other saw a heroic display of flying skill, Gredar saw grave breaches of conduct, some of which could have repercussions on the Federation itself.

And so it was that when Driscoll arrived on the bridge and announced a senior staff meeting, Gredar already knew what he was going to say.

************************************************************************************************  


  
As the meeting came to order, Jacobs asked, "What happened down there, Skipper?"

Driscoll replied with a dismissive wave.  "I'll give ya the details later.  Right now, we've got more important stuff to deal with, namely, a first-contact."

"Two, sir," Gredar corrected.

"Right, but one at a time, Commander."

"Captain, you attacked that robot without provocation."

Driscoll sensed the challenge in his first officer's words.  "Gredar, not now.  If you got a beef, talk to me later, okay?"  
  


Gredar hissed something that his translator didn't translate, indicating either Gorn slang or a particularly nasty curse.  Driscoll was willing to bet on the latter.

"As I was saying," the captain continued, "we've got a first contact scenario.  The group I helped out down there was the Voltron Force, who are in the service of the Galaxy Alliance.  The Alliance is an organization like the Federation, composed of many member worlds spread across a lot of space.  Right now, the Alliance is fighting a two-front war against the Drule Empire and the Doom Empire, who owned that green beastie on the surface…"

The senior crew listened closely as the captain delivered a comprehensive briefing on the Galaxy Alliance, the Voltron Force, Arus, and the Doom and Drule Empires.  When he finished, Curtis asked, "How do you know all this, Captain?"

"I have my sources, Lieutenant," Driscoll replied cryptically.  "At any rate, we've been invited to dinner by the Princess of Arus.  This ain't a formal thing, so standard duty uniforms will do.  The away team will consist of myself, Commander Gredar, and Commander Jacobs.  I'll fly down in my plane, so they know it's us.  Gredar, you and T.J. will fly my wing in a shuttlepod."

"Are there any Prime Directive concerns, sir?" Mordock asked.

"Nope.  They just don't have transporter technology, and I don't wanna dazzle 'em on our first visit."  Mordock nodded, as Driscoll continued, "While we're on the surface, Captain Scott will be in command."  
  


"And if the Doom ships return, sir," Scotty asked.

"Try to avoid a fight, and notify me immediately.  Standard rules of engagement."

"Aye, sir."

"Are there any other questions?" Driscoll asked.  Hearing none, he ended the briefing, and asked Gredar to remain behind as the others filed out of the room.  When they were alone, the captain said, "If you got something to say, say it."

"You have committed an act of war, without cause or provocation," Gredar rasped.

"Not without cause.  But yeah, I violated the standard rules of engagement."

"No, sir.  It is not so simple.  You have involved the Federation in a war we have no business in."

"Gredar, I had more information on the situation than you.  Believe you me, I knew what I was getting into."

"The fact, sir, is that there was no need for you to attack at all.  You were not under attack, or in danger of attack.  You have violated five major regulations.  Given the severity of these infractions, I could have you arrested."

Driscoll stared across the table at Gredar, his eyes full of anger.  "You've really got it in for me, dontcha, Godzilla?" the captain spat, using a nickname Gredar had acquired during his tour on the _Dartagnan_, and had come to loathe.  "Ever since I came aboard, you've been waiting for an opportunity to shoot me down.  Why?"

Gredar was silent.  The foolish human before him was beginning to arouse his anger.  The Gorn had learned to carefully control his hot temper, but his captain was trying his patience.

Driscoll stood and began to pace.  "Why'd you apply to be my XO, Gredar?" he asked.  "What made you want to serve with me, if you hate me so much?"

"I do not hate you, Captain," Gredar replied.  "I chose to apply to be your first officer because of your reputation.  Despite your age, you have a reputation as a good commander.  But although your skills are adequate, you command poorly.  You are impulsive, reckless, and undisciplined."

"I know.  That's why I chose you.  You're a reliable officer.  You do things by the book; you're very rational, and very cautious.  You have all the qualities to balance my shortcomings.  But instead of working with me, you've been fighting me.  Why is that?"

"It is my function as your first officer to make sure that you consider all options.  I have only been acting in the best interests of this ship and crew.  I have never attempted to undermine your authority."

"And I have never put this ship or her crew in unnecessary danger!" 

"But you have put yourself in danger in your fighter."

Driscoll stopped pacing and sighed, shaking his head.  "That's how I am, Gredar.  I don't command from the rear.  I lead from the front.  I would never ask any of these guys to do anything I wouldn't do myself.  I care about this crew.  We're a team out here, and we all depend on each other.  I'm tryin' to show these guys that I'm a team player, too.  I know you all resent me.  I'm half the age of some of the lieutenants on board.  Hell, I ain't old enough to go to the Academy.  I've gotta prove myself to this crew, which is something that not many captains have to do.  I can do this job, and I have to show them that.  That I'm just another part of the crew, doing his job, and that I can do it good."  

Gredar sat there a moment, considering his captain's words.  Normally, he would have considered such an outburst childish and pathetic, but there was an undeniable ring of sincerity in his commander's words.  And he sympathized.  He knew well of the crew's feelings about the captain, but didn't know the captain was also aware.  Perhaps he had misjudged the young officer.  "I understand, Captain.  But you did act irresponsibly.  I must note that in my report."  
  


"Yep, I know," said Driscoll.  "You do your job, Gredar.  That's all I expect."  He looked the Gorn in the eye.  "And trust me to do mine."

Gredar, sensing the end of the discussion, rose and asked, "Permission to return to duty, sir?"

Driscoll nodded, and Gredar left the room.  


************************************************************************************************  
 

Prince Lotor stood before his father, King Zarkon, in Castle Doom.  He had just delivered the news of his latest defeat, and was awaiting the king's tirade.

But instead, Zarkon sat deep in thought for several minutes.  Finally, he looked at his son.  "You say this fighter merged with Voltron?  Why hasn't it appeared before now?"

"I have no idea, Father.  It came from nowhere and attacked the robeast.  But it was not until it merged with Voltron that it posed any real threat."

"Where did it come from?" Zarkon asked.

"I don't know.  There were no other ships, and a fighter that small can't have much range."

Zarkon was puzzled.  Though upset about Lotor's most recent failure, he was intrigued by the mysterious new craft his son reported.  He sensed that this was no trivial incident.

"Perhaps your failure this time was not so dismal after all, my son.  Send a probe to Arus," Zarkon commanded.  "This situation bears further scrutiny."

"Immediately, Father," Lotor acknowledged with a salute.  


*************************************************************************************************  
 

The Voltron Force was gathered in the control room, awaiting the arrival of their new ally.  Coran was at his usual post, manning  


the large console at the center of the room, while Keith busied himself checking monitors, and the others stood gathered around   


Coran's console.  


  
A light on the panel drew their attention to the Prime Minister as the stately old man opened the channel and announced, "This is Castle Control.  You are entering Arusian airspace.  Please state your business."

  
"_Castle Control, this is _Thunderwing_, Dinoman speaking.  Request landing clearance._"

  
Coran looked at Allura, who nodded.  "_Thunderwing_, you are cleared to land."

  
"_Roger.  You got valet parking down there or is it self-serve?_"

  
Coran was thrown for a moment by the unexpected reply, which elicited a number of chuckles from the Voltron Force.  "You may park your craft outside the castle moat," he replied.

  
"_Copy that.  We're on final.  _Thunderwing _out_."

  
"Why don't we go meet them?" Pidge suggested.

  
"Good idea," Keith agreed, taking the lead as the group headed out of the control room.  As an afterthought, he said, "Coran, leave the defenses on standby, just in case."

***********************************************************************************************  


  
Driscoll looked over his shoulder at the small shuttlepod following closely on his four o'clock position.  "Okay, Commander, slide in behind me and follow me in.  We're gonna park under that stand of trees at eleven o'clock low."

  
"Acknowledged," Gredar rasped.

  
The _Toto_ pulled in behind _Thunderwing_ as the Mustang circled the palace, then used its thrusters and antigravs to make a perfect, three-point vertical landing, followed closely by the shuttle.

  
While Gredar and Jacobs secured the shuttle, Driscoll removed his flight gear and tossed it into the rear jumpseat before joining his fellow officers at the shuttlepod.

  
  



	7. First Meeting

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

Chapter 7 

The Voltron Force met their guests at the castle gates, watching the three people cross the bridge toward them.  Their leader was a young man, tall with dirty blond hair and steel blue eyes.  He was followed on the left by a towering, green man who resembled a dinosaur, and on his right was a tall, blond woman.  All three wore black uniforms with metal pins on their chests and small, gold circles on their collars.

The leader stopped in front of Allura.  "Princess Allura?"

"Yes?"  
  


"I'm Captain Adam Driscoll of the United Federation of Planets, commanding officer of the starship U.S.S. _Berlin_," he said, bowing slightly.  "Callsign, Dinoman."  He motioned to the reptilian beside him.  "This is my first officer, Commander Gredar, and my security chief, Lieutenant-Commander Tina Jacobs."

Allura nodded.  "On behalf of the people of Arus, I welcome you to the Castle of Lions.  Allow me to introduce the Voltron Force."  Each man nodded as Allura announced their name.  "Commander Keith Mendoza, leader and pilot of Black Lion.  Lieutenant Lance Corman, pilot of Red Lion.  Lieutenant Hunk Michaels, pilot of Yellow Lion, and Lieutenant Pidge LeSur, Green Lion."

Although outwardly calm, the Voltron Force was on guard.  They hated all the formality; it just wasn't their style.  That, and they didn't know if they could trust the newcomers yet, and the giant lizard was more than a little disturbing.

As Allura made the introductions, something ate at the back of her mind.  Something important, but she just couldn't put her finger on it.  Then it hit her.  Their uniforms.

But these brave souls would fail, if not for the men in black.

It suddenly made sense.  Driscoll had saved them that day, and he wore a black uniform.  Voltron could have been destroyed that day.  They would have failed, if not for the men in black; if not for that man in black.  

She decided she had to talk to Keith about this as soon as possible.

"I'm sure you're all hungry," Allura said.  "Dinner should be ready now, if you'll follow us?"  She turned and headed into the castle, ringed by the Voltron Force.  To Jacobs, this was telling.  It showed that the Voltron Force didn't trust the Starfleeters, and that the Castle of Lions wasn't as safe as it looked.  If they couldn't even relax in their own castle, maybe the captain was right.  Maybe they _did_ need help.

The Voltron Force led the group to the main hall.  The adjective that came to Jacobs first was cavernous.  Twin staircases at the opposite end of the chamber led to a balcony.  The stark, metal walls were adorned with several large tapestries and paintings.  A long table in the center of the room was set with a modest but impressive meal.  Two people were waiting for them.  One was a stately old gentleman, the other a plump, middle-aged woman dressed in servant-type clothes.  Coran and Nanny, like the Voltron Force, were courteous, but wary of the newcomers.

During the meal, most of the conversation was of a question-and-answer nature, as the Starfleeters and the Voltron Force felt each other out.

"What, exactly, is the United Federation of Planets?" Keith asked.

"It's an interstellar alliance of over 160 member worlds and hundreds of colonies, spread across hundreds of light years," Driscoll replied.  "We're generally a peaceful organization, but we are more than capable of defending ourselves."

"So your vessel is a warship?" Coran asked.

"Not at all," said Jacobs.

"The _Berlin_ is a science vessel," said Driscoll.  "Our mission is to study subspace anomalies, which is how we ended up here.  Our ships are primarily designed for research and exploration.  Military stuff is secondary."

"That sounds a lot like the Alliance," said Pidge.  "We've got a lot of science ships, and there are a lot of planets in the Alliance.  Almost 900."

"But with guys like Zarkon and Lotor out there, we've been doing a lot of military operations," said Hunk.  

"How many ships does the Federation have?" Lance asked.

"That is classified," said Gredar.

"We don't even know.  We're fighting a war right now, and we're getting the bum end.  Our strength changes daily.  Even if we knew, we can't say."

"Of course," said Coran.

The group was silent for several moments as they ate, then Jacobs asked, "Commander Mendoza?"

"Call me, 'Keith'.  We only use first names."

"You never know who might be listening," Hunk added.

"Sorry.  But, what is Voltron's mission?  I'm sure it's not all about fighting robots?"

"Our mission is to free the worlds that have been enslaved by Zarkon, and bring him to justice," Keith replied.

"He's killed, robbed, enslaved, and laid waste to hundreds of worlds, including this one," Allura said vehemently, fire flashing in her eyes.  "We won't stop until he, Lotor, and all the rest of them have answered for their crimes."  
  


"Well stated, Your Highness," Coran said.  

Her words were also well regarded by the Starfleeters, although they kept their own council on the matter.  The princess obviously spoke from personal experience, and her words carried a tone of fierce determination and a hint of righteous anger.  

"We're fighting for our freedom, and our lives, and those of millions of other people," said Lance.  "And we're gonna win."

As Lance spoke, Allura studied the face of the Starfleet captain.  She saw how he reacted, and could sense his empathy.  She knew he could be a valuable ally.

And he wasn't bad looking, either.

The thought had entered her mind unexpectedly, and as she wondered where it had come from, she didn't realize she was staring until she saw Driscoll looking back at her.  She looked away a moment, and when she glanced at him again, he was still looking at her, and he smiled.  His smile was warm and friendly, not like the lustful sneers she'd received from so many suitors.  Yes, a valuable ally indeed, and perhaps a friend as well.

***********************************************************************************************

After dinner, Driscoll, Jacobs, and Gredar were given a tour of the castle, ending in the Control Room.  The Starfleeters noticed that the room was laid out much like a starship's bridge.

Coran had just finished a cursory explanation of the function of the Control Room, when Driscoll's combadge beeped.  He slapped the silver delta on his chest.  "Driscoll here."

"Scott here, sir, everything all right down there?"

"Yeah, Scotty, we're good.  What's going on up there?"

"Not a thing, sir. Everything's as quiet as a churchyard."

"Good to hear, Scotty, keep me posted."

"Aye, sir.  Scott out."

"Was that your ship calling?" Keith asked. 

"Yep.  Just a routine check-in, Commander," Driscoll replied.

"Where is your ship?" Coran asked as he adjusted the sensors.  "It isn't showing up on the scanners."

"The _Berlin_'s in orbit," said Jacobs.  "You should be able to see her."

"It isn't showing up," said Coran.

"The ship is still running silent," said Gredar.

"Right," said Driscoll.  He tapped his combadge.  "Driscoll to _Berlin_."

"_Scott here_."  
  


"Scotty, stand down from silent running."  
  


"_Aye, sir_."

A moment later, Coran began stroking his beard.  "Interesting," he muttered.

The others gathered around for a look at the ship, which Coran put up on the large central screen.  After a minute, lance whirled around.  "You were hiding _that_ up there all day?"  There was a mixture of awe and anger in his voice.  "How many more are there?"

"None.  The _Berlin_ is the only Federation ship in this dimension.  And she was always detectable.  You could have seen her with a telescope, detected her magnetic signature, a bunch of things.   We just didn't want Lotor to catch on to us.  Or stealth capabilities are really basic.  You oughta see what the Romulans can do."

Lance stared at Driscoll.  "Captain, I don't mind saying that I don't trust you.  You wouldn't' be the first one to come in here pretending to be our friend, and then attack us when we weren't looking."

"That's not our intention at all!" said Jacobs.

"No?" Lance asked.

"No." Jacobs replied.

"T.J.," Driscoll cautioned, motioning for her to back down.  "Lance, I don't blame you for not trusting us.  You'll see we're straight, but we're gonna have to prove it, I guess."

"We'll see," said Lance noncommittally.

Keith leaned over and muttered something to his friend, who only became angrier.  The captain decided to end the standoff.  "Well, it's getting late.  We should be getting back to our ship."

"Of course," said Allura.  "May we accompany you to your craft?"

"It's your planet, Princess," Driscoll said.

"Sometimes I wonder," Allura replied under her breath, spearing Keith with a glance as he was about to say something.  The commander shook his head forlornly, but said nothing.

**********************************************************************************************

Outside the Castle of Lions, the Mustang and the shuttlepod were dimly illuminated by the lights from the palace.

When the group arrived at the craft, Driscoll climbed onto the wing of his plane and slipped on his jumpsuit and jacket, then went to say his farewells.  Gredar and Jacobs caught up a moment later, after bringing the _Toto_'s systems online.

"Thanks for the great evening, Your Highness," Driscoll said.

"You're most welcome," Allura replied.  "And thank you for your help today."

Driscoll shrugged.  "It was fun.  And it's another sixth of a kill for my record."  
  


"Sixth of a kill?" Keith asked.

"Well, the six of us laid the smackdown on that robeast," Driscoll reasoned, "so the kill is split six ways, right?"  
  


"We don't count kills," said Keith.

"Well I do," Driscoll said with another shrug.

"Will you be staying long?" Allura asked.

"Well, by your leave, Princess, I'd like to stay for a few days.  We've been on active patrol for a month, and it would give us some time to do some housekeeping and give the crew a rest."

Allura nodded.  "Of course.  You're welcome to stay as long as you need."

"Captain, a word?" Gredar rasped, stepping back from the group.  Driscoll followed.

"Make it fast."

"Sir, there are diplomatic issues.  If these Doom forces find us here, they may see us as an enemy.  We are neutral in their affairs."

Driscoll nodded.  "Point taken, but the crew needs a rest."  He paused a moment, thinking.  "What if we hide near a pole?  Use the planet's magnetic field to help mask us, and go silent?"

Gredar thought a moment.  "Acceptable," he said.

"Good," Driscoll said.  The officers returned to the others, where Jacobs was speaking to Keith.  "Sorry.  My XO was just reminding me of some diplomatic protocols." 

"From what Commander Jacobs was telling us, your ship sounds really interesting," said Pidge.

"If you'd like to see it for yourselves, I'd be glad to give you a tour.  Maybe with dinner thrown in?"  Driscoll offered.

"Thank you, Captain," said Allura.  "We accept."

"Great," said Driscoll with a smile.  "I'll see to the arrangements, and I'll be in touch tomorrow."

Allura smiled back and nodded as the Starfleeters took their leave and boarded their craft.  A few moments later they started up and took off with full running lights, circled the castle once, and flew off into the sky.

**********************************************************************************************

After the Starfleeters left, Pidge, Lance, and Hunk decided to turn in for the night, because they knew they'd be up at the crack of dawn for lion practice.  Keith was scheduled for the evening watch, and Allura decided to accompany him to the Control Room.  There were several things she needed to discuss with him.

After relieving Coran, Keith checked the log, and then turned to Allura. "What's on your mind, Princess?"  He was pretty sure he knew the answer, but Allura was not always the type to volunteer information.

"Do you think we can trust them?"

Keith sighed.  "I'm not sure.  Interdimensional travel?  Subspace anomalies?  It all seems a little far-fetched to me, Princess."

"Lance said he didn't trust them."

Keith scoffed.  "Yeah, well, Lance doesn't trust anybody at first.  You should have been there when Lance and I first met.  Sven had his hands full keeping us apart."

Allura laughed.  "I can just imagine that!"  She paused.  "But they were hiding that ship up there for so long, and we never knew it.  They had plenty of time to attack, but they helped us."

"Sounds like you trust them," said Keith.

"I think we can, Keith.  I believe what they told us about themselves, and there's another reason, too."  She explained to him about the prophecy, and how she made the connection.  When she finished, Keith was silent a moment, thinking.  

The Voltron Force's arrival had been prophesized as well, so there was a precedent, and all the elements fit together well.  Also, what Driscoll had told them earlier was true.  They had detected the _Berlin,_ but since she wasn't emitting any signals or unusual radiation typical of a ship, the sensors had classified it as space flotsam, and not worthy of notice.Finally, he asked, "Could they have known about the prophecy?"

"No," said Allura.  "So maybe we can trust them."

"Maybe," Keith allowed.

All of a sudden, the doors flew open, and a voice echoed through the chamber.  "Ach! Princess, where have you been?  It's time for bed."

Nanny bustled into the room, shooting a wary glance at Keith.  "And you should not be alone with one of those…scoundrels.  Who knows what might happen?"

Allura rolled her eyes in frustration.  "Nanny!  I'm not a child anymore!  I can take care of myself perfectly well."

Keith wanted to say something in Allura's defense, but knew it would only earn him a tongue-lashing from the ever-proper governess.  So he said, "Nanny's right, Princess.  It's late, and we have an early practice tomorrow."  
  


Allura was surprised at Keith for taking Nanny's side, but she knew when not to argue.  So, reluctantly, she acquiesced and followed Nanny out of the Control Room.


	8. Dinner and a Melee

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

Chapter 8 

The next day passed uneventfully on the _Berlin_, a welcome thing for her crew.  As the period of rest and repair got underway, most conversation was about the evens of the past two days, and what was in store for the future.

But it was the present that occupied the minds of the Voltron Force as they approached the ship aboard the shuttles _Dorothy_ and _Scarecrow_.  Keith, Lance and Allura rode in the first shuttle, while Hunk and Pidge were in the second.  Driscoll led the formation in his fighter, and the shuttles followed close behind as he led them around the ship so that the visitors from Arus could get a good look at her.

Pidge and Hunk were particularly impressed by what they saw.  The ship was a pale blue overall.  The forward part was a broad, flat disk, which bore the ship's name and registry number.  The disk was connected to a roughly pan-shaped secondary hull by a semicircular, ribbed, black neck.  From this secondary hull, two pylons extended out and bent upward, where they attached to two long, cylindrical structures, which, they suspected, were engines.  As they approached the shuttlebay, they saw another set of engines mounted on the back of the saucer, above the neck.

Disembarking from the shuttles, the Voltron Force was impressed by what they saw.  The large chamber was brightly lit, and exuded and atmosphere of organization and efficiency.  They saw several smaller craft in the bay, parked side by side.

"I think I'm gonna like this," Pidge commented.

As they looked around, Commander Gredar and Lieutenant-Commander Jacobs approached them from the far side of the bay and welcomed them aboard.  The uniforms they wore were somewhat different from the ones they wore the day before.  Their jackets were white with gray fronts and gold accents.  Obviously dress uniforms, although Gredar's was a vest version, like his regular duty uniform.

Driscoll joined them a moment later.  "Okay, everybody's here.  Great.  First of all, let me welcome you all aboard the _Berlin_.  As you've noticed, we're currently in orbit above Arus' north pole.  Anyway, what we had planned was a tour of the ship, followed by dinner in the officer's lounge, where you'll be able to meet the rest of the senior crew.  Sound good?"

"Captain, what if we should need to contact Castle Control?" Keith asked.

"Not a problem.  Just let me or Commander Gredar know, and we can open a channel whenever you need it."

There were no more questions, so Driscoll led the group out of the shuttlebay and began the tour.

********************************************************************************************

During the tour, Pidge, Hunk, and Allura asked many questions, most of which the Captain or Commander Jacobs answered happily.  Some, though, were dismissed with that classic military catch phrase, "Classified."  Gredar was a silent presence throughout most of the time, as were Keith and Lance.  The Voltron commander and his second kept their own council, trying to assess just how far these newcomers could be trusted.  They put on a pretty show, but that was no guarantee of their intentions.  Despite Allura's confidence, Keith still had questions, and Lance even more so.

But the more they saw, the less threat they perceived.  On almost every deck, there were science labs, crew amenities, lounges, and all manner of things except weapons.  In fact, only about a dozen or so weapons control rooms existed on the entire ship.  Keith found that interesting, as did Lance, who decided to ask Captain Driscoll about it.

Finally, the group reached the officer's lounge.  Several tables had been set up buffet-style with a sampling of dishes from all over the Federation.  Hunk eyed the spread hungrily, earning a poke in the ribs from Keith as Driscoll introduced his crew.

The group was quiet for several minutes as they ate.  Allura was the first to speak.  "I'm amazed at the diversity of races on board.  Most Alliance ships are predominantly crewed by a single race, but the _Berlin_ seems to have more of a mix."

"Most Federation ships are like that," said Dr. Saladin.  "The _Berlin_'s crew includes a dozen races.  Mostly human, but there are also Vulcans, Bolians, Andorians, Bajorans, Elasians, Grazerites, Ktarians, Betazoids, Gorn, Benzites, and Denobulans."

"That's so wonderful.  Everyone working together like that," said Allura.

"That's what makes the Federation great, lass," said Scotty.  "It's a cooperative effort.  Individually, we're vulnerable, but together, there is nothing we canna accomplish."

"United we stand," said Curtis.

"The ship seems lightly armed for its size," said Lance.  "Almost defenseless."  
  


Jacobs expected Driscoll to play the "classified" card again, but he didn't.  "We're far from defenseless.  Our weapon systems have been downgraded, and we carry more probes than torpedoes, but we are more than capable of defending ourselves if need be.  But our defenses are just that.  We don't fire unless we are fired on first, and then not until we've exhausted every other option."

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment.  Lance's comment had shown his mistrust of the Federation people, and Keith, for one, didn't appreciate his timing.

Luckily, Hunk saved the situation.  "Mr. Scott, with engines as big as she has, I'll be the _Berlin_ is pretty fast."

"Ya bet yer fanny, she is," the Scotsman replied.  "She's nae the fastest ship in the fleet, mind ya, but any engine I work on is in top condition.  Why, just a few days ago when we were chasing that subspace beastie…"

Several pairs of eyes rolled skyward.  In resurrecting the situation Lance had created, Hunk had created another almost as bad, for once Scotty started talking about the warp engines, it was nearly impossible to shut him up.

At length, the engineer ended his dissertation on the nacelles, and the gathering rose from the table and broke up into smaller groups while dessert was laid out.  Keith and Allura caught up with Driscoll and Gredar, who were topping off their drinks.

"Captain, I think I should apologize for Lance," said Keith.  "He doesn't trust people easily."

"Not a problem, Keith.  And call me 'Adam.'  I hate this formal crap.  We're all friends here.  Besides, any fighter pilot that's not hotheaded, at least a little, has no business in a cockpit."

"You're right there," Keith agreed.  "But still, it was uncalled-for."

"You apologize for Lance a lot, don't you?" Driscoll asked.

"More than I'd like to admit," Keith replied wryly.

"As Gredar does for me," Driscoll added, earning a grunt in reply from his first officer.

"You don't' say much, do you, Commander?" Allura asked.

"We Gorn are people of few words.  We speak only when we have something worth saying," Gredar rasped.

"You look like you have something to say, Princess," said Driscoll.  He had noticed that the Princess was acting tense throughout dinner, and now hoped to find out why.

"I do," said Allura.  "There's something you should know, and probably Commander Gredar, too."  She proceeded to tell them about the prophecy, adding how she suspected that the Starfleeters were the 'men in black' the prophecy referred to.  "And that's why I want to ask for your help against Zarkon and Lotor," she concluded.

"And what of the Alliance?" Gredar asked.

"They're stretched thin right now with the problems they're having elsewhere with the Drules.  We would welcome the help," said Keith.

"I'd like to help," Driscoll replied, "but this isn't my call.  I'll forward your request through channels, but it's not likely…"

Just then the yellow alert sounded, and the captain and his senior officers were summoned to the bridge.

*********************************************************************************************

"Report!" Driscoll ordered as he stepped off the turbolift, followed closely by Gredar, Singh, and Jacobs.  Curtis, Mordock, and the Voltron Force arrived a moment later on the starboard lift.

"Five unidentified ships approaching Arus," the tactical officer said as Jacobs took over the station.

"Onscreen," Driscoll ordered.

On the main viewer, five vessels were visible.  They all had the sleek lines of warships, with long prows and overhanging structure on the bow.  On top, roughly three-quarters of the way back, was a conning tower of sorts.

"Those are Doom battleships," said Keith.

"Have they detected us?" Driscoll asked.

"It does not appear so," Mordock replied.  "We're still running silent."

Driscoll rubbed his chin, debating his next move.  "T.J…red alert.  All hands to battle stations, but leave the weapons and shields offline."

"Aye, sir.  Should I lock weapons?"

"No.  No aggressive moves."

"Why doesn't he attack them?" Lance muttered.

The Captain heard Lance's criticism.  "Because, Lieutenant Corman," Driscoll replied, "the Federation is not at war with Doom, and those ships have made no aggressive moves toward us.  We don't fire first."

"That may be a moot point, Captain," Mordock announced.  "Two of the vessels are heading toward us.   The others are holding position."

"Here we go," said Driscoll.  "Bridge to shuttlebay."  
  


"_Shuttlebay.  Go ahead, bridge._"

"Ready _Thunderwing_ for launch.  Load out six rockets and microtorpedo launchers."

"_Aye, sir_."

"Shields up, stand by phasers.  Hail."

Jacobs tried to raise the lead ship.  "No response."

"They're firing," Mordock warned.

The bridge crew braced themselves as the ship rocked under the Doom ships' lasers, then settled again.

"No damage," Singh reported.

"Shields holding," said Jacobs.

"And they will continue to do so," said Mordock.  "Their weapons are not strong enough to breach our shields."

"In that case," Driscoll said with a smug grin, "continue hailing and let them have fun."

"The other ships are closing to attack," Mordock warned.

"Hold position," said Driscoll.  "Reroute auxiliary power to forward shields."

All five Doom ships commenced firing on the _Berlin_, causing the starship to shimmy and shake, but her shields held with little damage.

"Persistent, aren't they?" the Captain asked the Gorn beside him.

"Indeed," Gredar growled.

Finally, after several minutes of constant bombardment, Jacobs announced, "They're responding to our hail, sir."

"On audio, Commander," Driscoll replied, glancing at the Voltron Force and motioning them to silence.  All but Lance, who folded his arms in disgust, nodded understanding.

"_Identify yourself_," A voice said.

_Short, sweet, and to the point_, thought Driscoll.  "This is Captain Adam Driscoll of the Federation starship _Berlin_.  To whom am I speaking?"

"_I am Lotor, Prince of Doom_."

"Prince Lotor, how's about you knock off the fireworks?  It's not easy to talk when you're getting shook up like a martini, and we just had this thing detailed."  Lance had to smirk at the captain's wisecrack.  At least he had the right attitude for dealing with Lotor.

"_Do you surrender, then_?" Lotor demanded.

"No, we don't," Driscoll replied.  "I just figured you might want to try to sort things out, since laser fire isn't working."

***********************************************************************************************

Lotor was taken aback.  Nobody who knew his reputation would dare to speak to him that way.  The fool should be begging for mercy, not making wisecracks!  But since his ships weren't damaging the strange new vessel, he ordered a cease-fire.  "What is your business in Doom space?"

"_According to the ruler of this planet, Doom has no dominion here_."

"My father claimed this world by right of conquest!" Lotor yelled.  "Thus, it belongs to Doom."

"_The princess Allura disagrees_."

"You are allies of the Voltron Force?" Lotor asked, preparing to order a new barrage.

"_No, we're neutral.  We're not here to take sides_," said Driscoll.

"Then why are you here?"

"_We are on a peaceful mission of exploration.  Nothing more."_

"I do not recognize the name, 'Federation'.  What galaxy are you from?"

"_The Milky Way, but in a different dimension.  How we got here is actually kinda cool…_"

"Lies!  The Alliance controls the Milky Way.  You are spies!"

"_No, we're not.  I told you, Lotor, we're neutral.  The Federation isn't interested in your fight_."

"Then surrender and prepare to be boarded."

"_No_."

"If you're not with us, you're against us.  There is no 'neutrality' here.  Join me or die."

"_Prince Lotor, please, we don't' want a fight_."

"It's too late," Lotor said.  "Prepare to die.  All ships, destroy the _Berlin_!"

**********************************************************************************************

"Dumb son of a bitch," Driscoll muttered as the ship began to shake again.  "Okay, people, we tried.  Now we kick ass.  T.J., put it all on line.  Target the nearest ship and prepare to fire phasers.  Shoot to disable."

"'Disable'?" Lance repeated in surprise.

"We're not at war with them," Driscoll reminded him.

"Phasers locked," said Jacobs.

"Fire," said Driscoll.

Red beams shot from the _Berlin and struck several points on the nearest Doom ship.  A moment later, it stopped firing._

"Target disabled," Mordock reported.  "Weapons, shields, and propulsion offline, moderate structural damage."

"Do it again, T.J., but not to Lotor.  Mr. Curtis, close distance," Driscoll ordered.

Two "aye, sirs" were heard simultaneously as the _Berlin began to close in on the Doom ships as a second and a third fell to the starship.  The other two ships quickly backed off._

As Driscoll surveyed the three disabled ships, he was struck by a radical idea.  "Mordock, Maria, can we remotely download the information in their databanks?"

"Perhaps," said Mordock, analyzing the sensor readouts.  "Their computer system is rather simple.  It should not be a problem."

"Good.  Do it, and get plenty of scans while you're at it."

"Why sir?" Singh asked, thoroughly confused.

Most commanders would have replied with a rebuke.  Driscoll however, wasn't so severe.  "First rule of command, Lieutenant.  'Always look at the big picture'.  I wanna see every angle."

"Aye, sir," Singh replied as she and Mordock set to work establishing the link to the Doom ships.

*******************************************************************************************

After nearly an hour, the entire databases of all three disabled Doom ships had been downloaded to the _Berlin's memory banks.  "Hail Lotor," Driscoll ordered._

"Channel open," Jacobs replied, touching a control on her panel.

"Lotor, you are free to take these ships and their crews back.  And I hope next time you'll be more willing to talk.  Driscoll out."

"You're giving them back?" Hunk blurted.

"I have to.  According to regulations, I can't take prisoners without an existing state of war."

"But we could," said Pidge.

"I can't let you.  That would imply a military alliance that don't exist.  Sorry."

"The Doom ships have been taken in tow.  They're leaving, sir," Mordock reported.  

"Good riddance.  Stand down to yellow alert, but keep the shields up."  Driscoll rose from his seat and walked over to where the Voltron Force stood.  "I can't take you back until Lotor is out of sensor range, so maybe you'd like to have that dessert?"

"Thank you, Captain," Allura accepted.

As the officers and guests filed into the turbolifts, Driscoll looked up at Gredar.  "Any violations there, Commander?"

"None, sir," Gredar rasped.

Driscoll nodded.  "Good," he said as the lift doors closed.

*******************************************************************************************

"What?  The _entire computer system?" Lotor exclaimed.  He was debriefing the commander of one of the battleships the _Berlin_ had disabled, and his rage flared over the commander's report._

"Yes, sire.  They downloaded copies of all our files, our programs, our protocols, everything."

As he was about to berate the skullship commander for his stupidity, he realized a way that the situation might be redeemed, when the time was right.


	9. Dogfight Knight

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

Chapter 9 

As the sun rose over Arus, the five Voltron Lions left their lairs for another early practice.  A single, small craft circled unnoticed, high above at the edge of space.  That morning, the pilot had awoken to find a message waiting for him from Starfleet Command.  They'd responded to Gredar's report quicker than he'd expected.

As he flew, banked over, watching the activity far below on a holoprojection on his canopy, Driscoll thought of the potential being wasted; the possibilities that could come from cooperation between the Federation and the Alliance, and how it was being thrown away for the sake of regulations.

The _Berlin_ had been recalled to Earth.  Because he had helped the Voltron Force, Driscoll was to face a court-martial.

Thus, he flew what might be his last morning hop, over Arus, imagining the great things that would never be.

Just then, something caught his eye.  A dozen fireballs streaked into Arus' atmosphere.  _Cool, meteor shower_, Driscoll thought.  But something about it wasn't right.  It seemed unnatural somehow.

The realization hit him like a runaway express train.  _Since when do meteors fly in formation_?

Below him, the Voltron Force continued their maneuvers, heedless of the threat.  Driscoll knew he should act, but he was already in hot water.

_Damned if I do, damned if I don't.  Screw it._

This time, as he prepared to attack, his actions were deliberate.  He charged his phasers, activated his gunsight, and turned on his battle music.  With rock music blasting in his headset, Driscoll rolled the P-51 over and dove after the bandits.

***********************************************************************************************

Coming out of the reentry fireball at 60,000 feet, Driscoll leveled off and saw the twelve Doom fighters below him, flying in a wide vee toward the Voltron Force.  He latched onto the left-most fighter and dove.  Closing to within 1,000 yards, he opened fire, shredding the fighter with his phasers.  "Voltron Leader, this is _Thunderwing_.  You've got bandits incoming.  Heads up!"

With their cover blown, the fighters split up to attack the Voltron Force as the Lions turned to attack.

But the fighters had the advantages of speed and altitude over the Voltron Force, and each Lion quickly acquired a pair of aggressors.  Three of them latched onto Blue Lion.

"Princess, behind you!" Lance warned.  He tried to turn and attack her pursuers, but the two fighters on his own tail cut him off.  Keith met with a similar situation.

Allura maneuvered quickly, trying to shake the fighters off her tail, but they stayed with her.  Then, one of them fired, hitting Blue Lion in the neck.  Allura shrieked as the Lion bucked, tossing her hard against her seat restraints.

"Princess, on my mark, break hard right.  Three, two, one, break!"

Blue Lion executed a midair jump-turn as two of the pursuing fighters broke into flames in quick succession under a hail of phaser fire.  The third broke off, and Allura glanced at her monitor to see two fighters spiraling toward the ground trailing thick, black smoke, and _Thunderwing_ pursuing the third.

Looking forward again, Allura found herself in position to shoot a fighter off of Hunk's tail.  "Ion darts," she announced, arming and firing the weapon.  One of the fighters was hit and tried to escape, only to crash into the other.

Moments later, Pidge announced a kill, followed by Keith.

Lance had just had his pursuers disposed of by Keith, and his trigger finger was itching.  He looked over and saw _Thunderwing attacking another fighter, when a flash of light above attracted his attention.  A Doom fighter dove on the Mustang.  Before he could warn Driscoll, the Captain shouted, "I've got one on my six!  Little help anybody?"_

"Break left, Dinoman," said Lance.  The P-51 banked left into a tight turn, bringing the Doom fighter across Red Lion's nose.  One blast from the flamethrower took care of it.

"Thanks, Lance.  I owe ya one," said Driscoll

The last fighters pulled up and escaped into space, and as quickly as it started, it was over.  "Damage report," Keith called.

"A-OK, Skipper," said Lance.

"All's good here," said Hunk.

"Fine here," said Pidge.

"A little shaken up, but okay," said Allura.

"Adam, how about you?" Keith asked.

Driscoll was surprised.  Why would Keith care?  He was a good guy and all, but he was acting like Driscoll was part of the team.  Puzzled, the captain replied,  "Three kills, not a scratch on me.  I'd say I'm pretty good."

"Good."

"You want me to fly top cover until you land?" Driscoll asked.  

Keith thought a moment before responding.  This was the second time in three days that Driscoll had saved their necks.  "No, but I'd like to talk to you on the ground."

"Roger that," Driscoll replied.  As the lions began landing, Driscoll set down on the road that led to the castle, taxiing up to the palace.  Still wearing his flight gear, he sat on the wing of his plane, waiting for Keith.

Fifteen minutes later, a guard came for him, and escorted him into the castle.

***********************************************************************************************

The Voltron Force and Coran were gathered around the central console in the Control Room when Driscoll arrived.  "You wanted to talk to me, Commander?"

"Yeah, I did.  This is the second time you've helped us."

Driscoll cut him off.  "Covered your ass, you mean.  You should have known they were coming. You or Coran.  I mean, come on, Keith."

Lance bristled at the scathing comment and started to reply when Keith cut him off.  "We saw them, like we saw you.  But we didn't know if we could trust you.  Allura thought so, but the rest of us weren't so sure, until now."

"Today, you proved yourself to us, and you saved the Princess as well," said Coran.  "Such a service cannot go unrecognized."

"You're a good pilot, Adam," said Keith.  "You've helped us defend Arus twice, on your own initiative, an you put yourself in harm's way to do it.  We could use someone like you."

"I don't think I'm getting your point, Keith," said Driscoll.

"Your coming was foretold in a prophecy, as was theirs," Allura explained.  "The Voltron Force have become heroes of Arus.  The new Lion Knights.  And I invite you to join them.  To join _us_."

Driscoll was thunderstruck.  "Wow, uh, I mean, whoa, baby," he babbled, scratching his head.  "I'm honored, Your Highness, really.  But I can't accept.  Not that I don't want to, but…"

"What?  It's not good enough?" Lance needled.

"Hardly," the captain replied, regaining his composure.  "But my duty is to Starfleet.  There's a definite clash there.  And besides, the _Berlin_ has been recalled, and I'm to be court-martialed."

"Why?" asked Pidge.

"Well, when I nosed over to bomb that robeast, I broke five major regs.  It's a safe bet that my career is over.  That's why I can't accept the title, because I can't promise you my service or allegiance."

"But would you if you could?" Allura asked.

"Hell yeah.  This is a battle worth fighting."

Allura stepped forward, her pink gown rustling as she brushed past Keith and Hunk.  "Captain, do you swear to defend freedom and Justice and to help those in need?"

Frowning in confusion, Driscoll replied tentatively, "Yes…"

"And do you swear to fight evil and tyranny wherever you find it?"

"I do."

"Then kneel, Captain Adam Driscoll of the United Federation of Planets," Allura commanded.  With the import of her words finally dawning on him, the young pilot knelt before the Princess.  She held out her hand, and on the fourth finger was a ring, adorned with the seal of Arus.  Driscoll, realizing what was expected, took her hand and, in an ages-old gesture of fealty, kissed the ring.  "And arise, _Sir_ Adam Driscoll of the United Federation of Planets and Lion Knight."  
  


Driscoll stood and faced the others.  "Thank you."  
  


"You see, young man," said Coran, "being a Lion Knight is not about serving Arus.  It is about serving the greater good of all mankind.  That is the obligation you took on in accepting the honor of knighthood."

"Not all that different from the oath of service I took when I joined Starfleet," Driscoll replied.  And even as he spoke, he realized a new meaning behind his words.  "Princess, I guarantee Arus will receive Federation aid.  I don't' know what or how much, but I promise, as a representative of the Federation, that help will be forthcoming."  He stood there a moment, then nodded and turned to leave.

"Captain?" Allura called after him.

Driscoll turned back to face her.

"If there's anything we can do to help, all you need to do is ask," Allura said.  "And remember, there's always a place for you here."

Driscoll nodded.  "Thanks," he said.  Then he snapped to attention and saluted the Voltron Force, then left the chamber.

***********************************************************************************************

Aboard the _Berlin_, Driscoll called a senior staff meeting to explain the situation of his court-martial to his crew, then, as per regulations, turned command over to Gredar for the trip to Earth.  Within the hour, the starship broke orbit and crossed back through the wormhole, heading home.

***********************************************************************************************

"You have news, witch?" Zarkon asked of Haggar, who stood before his throne with her blue cat in her arms.

"I do, sire.  Our probe reports that the Federation ship has left Arus and gone back from whence it came."

Zarkon nodded. "I knew they posed no real threat.  Merely an unpleasant and ill-timed surprise."  He turned to his son, who stood off to one side.  "You see, Lotor, patience has proven an ally here.  Now that they have moved on, you can prepare your next attack."

"Yes, Father," said Lotor.  "I have already asked Haggar to create a new robeast for me."

"And when will it be ready?" Zarkon asked.

"In a matter of days, sire," Haggar replied.  "And I've taken the liberty of adding a few extra surprises to this one."

"Excellent.  Notify me when it's ready."

"Yes, sire."  Taking their cues, Lotor and the witch left Zarkon's throne room.  When he was alone, Zarkon entertained his own thoughts.  He wasn't so sure the starship was really gone.  Oh, it had left, but would it be back?  Zarkon thought it likely would, and he needed to be ready.  He knew that the mysterious ship could tip the scales of fortune against him, even as Voltron was doing now.  Especially of others came with it.  And if the day ever came that those ships threatened Doom itself, he would need a plan.

He would need to be ready.


	10. Councils

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

Chapter 10 

"The 'Five Angry Admirals'," Driscoll muttered.

"That's right, Captain," said the lawyer on the other side of the table.  Lieutenant-Commander Robert MacRabb of the Starfleet Judge Advocate General's Office had been assigned as Driscoll's defense attorney.  

Contrary to what Driscoll had thought, he was not being court-martialed.  Given the circumstances, and to keep the wormhole and Driscoll's dimension-jumping ability secret, the captain would instead face an admiralty tribunal, known popularly as the "Five Angry Admirals."  They would have the option to forward the case to a general court-martial, or to dispose of it themselves.

Upon arrival at Earth, Driscoll had been placed under arrest and taken to Starfleet Headquarters, where he was now meeting with MacRabb.  The men had two days until the hearing.

"Who's on the panel?" Driscoll asked.

"Don't know yet, sir," MacRabb replied.  "We won't know until we get in there."

"Right.  So, Commander, what do you need to know to keep my ass outta the slammer?"

"Let's start from the beginning, Captain.  What made you want to attack that…thing?"

"The robeast?" 

"Yes."

"That's a _long_ story, Commander."

"Well, then you better get started, sir," said MacRabb.

**************************************************************************************************************************

Keith was reclining on one of the sofas in the lounge, looking over some of the information Captain Driscoll had provided about the Federation and its neighbors.  Shortly after the _Berlin_ had left Arus the day before, Keith had sent a message to Galaxy Garrison, detailing the Force's encounter with the Federation, and how Allura had asked them for assistance.

As he read, Keith was astonished by how many times the Federation had blundered its way into wars with neighboring empires.  Romulans, Klingons, Gorn, Cardassians, Tholians, the Dominion, and several others had gone to war shortly after first contact.  Surprisingly, many of these races were now on peaceful terms, if not allied with the Federation.  More surprisingly, the Federation had relied heavily on diplomacy, rather than military force to solve its disputes.  They never conquered or subjugated their enemies.  It employed all necessary military force to defend itself, but always strove for, and ultimately achieved, diplomatic resolutions to its conflicts.

To Keith, this was a radical and remarkable tactic.  In his experience, diplomacy rarely resolved conflicts, especially where Zarkon and his Drule allies were concerned.  Excessive military force was often required to back it up.

Another thing that surprised Keith was the dominant reference to one particular vessel.  The name U.S.S. _Enterprise_ was mentioned frequently.  The most first contacts, the most widely traveled ship, the fastest, the most instrumental, the most important, the most valuable.  References to the ship and her crew were everywhere, surrounded by an almost legendary aura.

He was just finishing a section about a major treaty known as the Khitomer Accords when his communicator went off.  He pulled the device out of his pocket and pressed a button.  "Keith here."

"Commander," said Coran's voice.  "There is a communication for you from Galaxy Garrison."  
  


"All right, Coran.  I'm on my way. "  He got up, setting the data reader on the table, and headed for the Control Room.

***************************************************************************************************************************

When he arrived, the other four pilots were already there, waiting for him.  Lance watched as Keith approached, leaning over he said, "It's Graham."

Coran looked around, and seeing everyone present, he opened the channel, and the face of Space Marshall Graham appeared on the main screen.

"Commander," said Graham.  "I've read your report about the Federation.  This looks like a great opportunity, but I still have a few questions."

"Such as?" Keith asked.

"First off, do you think they could pose a threat to the Alliance?"

"No doubt, sir," Keith replied.  The others looked at him in shock.  "If they ever became hostile, there's no doubt in my mind that they could destroy us.  The _Berlin_ shot down three of Lotor's battleships in a few seconds.

"But I don't think they _are_ a threat.  In our experience, they were very forthcoming and cooperative, and they had plenty of time to attack before they revealed themselves.  They could be a very dangerous threat if provoked, but they aren't a threat now.  From what I've seen, they don't fight unless it's the only option."

Graham nodded.  "And what about their technology?"

"It's a lot like ours, sir," said Pidge.  "Their computer systems are a little more advanced, and they're ahead of us on some things, but we're pretty closely matched."

"Except their weapons and shields are far better," said Graham.

"That's the biggest thing," said Hunk.  "And they've perfected matter-energy transportation."

There was a pause as Graham thought over what he'd just been told.  "And their captain, can he be trusted?"

All eyes in the room went to Lance.  They knew Graham's decision was hanging on a razor's edge.  One word could sway him one way or the other.

"Yeah, I think he can," said Lance.

Graham nodded.  "All right.  Keith, when is he due back?"

"We don't know."

"He may not come back," said Allura.  "He told us that he had broken some regulations by helping us.  He's going to be court-martialed."

"I see," said Graham.  "Very well.  _If_ he returns, Keith, I would like you to work with Coran in setting up any necessary treaties between the Galaxy Alliance and the Federation."

"Yes, sir," Keith replied.

"And Commander?"

"Yes?"  
  


"Don't take any chances.  If this thing goes south, you are to use any means necessary to protect the Alliance, up to and including destroying that ship."

"Yes, sir," Keith said.

The Space Marshall nodded.  "Graham out."

"Destroy the _Berlin_?" Hunk blurted.  "Is he serious?"

"Yeah, Big Guy, he is," said Lance.

"Now don't get too excited over it," Coran advised.  "The Space Marshall was just speaking out of caution.  I'm sure we have nothing to fear from the Federation."

As Allura walked out of the control room, she silently prayed that her advisor was right.

***************************************************************************************************************************

A fog sat on San Francisco Bay as dawn broke over the city, casting a mysterious aura.  The moisture on the Golden Gate Bridge caused the structure to shimmer like it was really made of gold.

On the grounds of Starfleet Academy, a man carefully tended a flowerbed, mixing in fertilizer and removing weeds.  He was dressed in a white shirt and gray coveralls, and looked every one of his seventy-eight years.  But his old and frail appearance was misleading.  His mind was razor sharp and rich with the wisdom of his age.

He heard someone coming, and saw a figure materialize out of the mist.  He wore a Starfleet uniform, but also wore a leather jacket with a fur-lined collar, a set of silver wings pinned to his chest.

The gardener watched out of the corner of his eye as the figure settled onto a bench nearby.  Without looking up, he asked, "Why aren't you flying today?"

Driscoll looked toward the voice, and saw an old man hunched over the garden.  Perplexed by the old man's question, he asked, "What?"  
  


"Why aren't you flying today?" The gardener repeated.  "You're all dressed up, but you've got nowhere to go."

"I can't.  They impounded my plane."

The old gardener was silent a moment then said, "So why not take a shuttle?"

"Yeah, right," Driscoll scoffed.  "It's not the same.  A type-whatever can't hold a candle to a P-51.  Once you've flown a Mustang, nothing else feels right."

"And that's what got you here?  Doing what feels right?"

Driscoll was surprised.  Who was this guy?  He thought a moment about what he had said, and then he began to see a double meaning.  It was so subtle he'd almost missed it.  "Yeah," he replied.  "It felt right."

"Even though you knew what kind of trouble you'd be in?"

"Yeah.  It felt good to know in my gut I'd done the right thing.  To know it in my heart, not in my head."

"And would you do it again?"

"In a second," Driscoll replied.

Now the old man stood and faced the captain.  He pointed his trowel at the younger man and said, "Then what are you afraid of?  What do you care what they think?"

Driscoll started to reply, but stopped himself.  The old man had a point.

The gardener sat down next do the captain and studied his work a moment before speaking.  "Son, I've been around a long time, and I've seen a lot.  Enough to know that regulations and ethics don't always agree.  What the regs tell you to do isn't always the right thing.  Sometimes, you have to take a risk to find out."

"Risk is my business, according to Jim Kirk."

The gardener nodded.  "That's why you're here."  He rose and returned to his work.  Driscoll watched him a moment, then knelt beside him as he prepared to plant a handful of seeds.  "What are those?" the captain asked.

"Don't know," the old man replied.  "You can't tell what the flower will look like just from the seed.  Sometimes you just have to plant it and let it grow."

"Why bother, if you don't know what it is?"

"You take a risk, see what happens.  The garden might just be better because of it."

Driscoll paused a moment, seeing the meaning of the gardener's words.  He thought about it a moment and it suddenly became clear.  He knew what he had to do.  

"Thanks, Mr…"

"Boothby," the gardener replied.  "Just call me 'Boothby', captain.  And here," he handed Driscoll a small bag filled with some of the mystery seeds.  "Take these.  They might help."

Driscoll took the seeds and put them in his pocket.  Boothby nodded and returned to his work.

Sensing his dismissal, Driscoll turned and left.  He only had a few hours before the hearing, and he had a lot to do.


	11. The Trial

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

_This one gets a little thick.  I tried to cut down on the legalese, but it's still windy._

_Thanks to all who've submitted reviews, especially RedLion2._

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

Chapter 11 

"This tribunal will now come to order," said Admiral Nechayev.  The Starfleet Commander-in-Chief was presiding over the hearing, along with Admiral Phillipa Louvois of the JAG Corps, and three other admirals that Driscoll didn't know.  

The tribunal was being held in a small room in the Starfleet headquarters building.  There was no gallery.  Only the five admirals, court reporter, two attorneys, and the accused captain.

"Captain Driscoll," said Nechayev, "you stand accused of violating directive zero-one-zero of the Starfleet General orders and Regulations, violation of the Standard Rules for the Conduct of First Contact, deserting your post in a combat situation, firing on an unknown entity without provocation, committing an act of war without authorization, and failure to notify Starfleet of an impending threat against a member world of the Federation.  How do you plead?"

Driscoll rose and faced the five officers.  "Guilty, sir, of all charges."

"Very well."

At this point, MacRabb rose beside Driscoll.  "Your Honor, before moving to sentencing, the defense would like to present evidence of mitigating circumstances."

Nechayev looked toward the prosecutor.  "Commander Seville, do you have any objections?"

"None, Your Honor."

"Very well.  Commander MacRabb, you may proceed."

"Thank you."  MacRabb rounded the table and stood in the center of the small room.  At this point, Driscoll's future rested in his hands.  Because Driscoll had decided to plead guilty, there would be no witnesses called, and no new evidence could be presented.  The outcome of the trial was dependent solely on the lawyers, and the evidence already compiled and submitted by both sides.

"Captain Driscoll violated regulations.  There's no question about that.  The flight recorder data from his own ship is damning.  However, the consequences of his actions, far from being detrimental to the Federation, may really be an opportunity in disguise.

"Consider this," MacRabb continued.  "The Captain knew that nothing could be done about the subspace tornado approaching Earth, so he opened a wormhole, which saved the planet.  Because of his actions, we now know how to destroy tornados."

"Wait a moment," said one of the admirals, an older man by the name of Enbrook.  "He _opened_ a wormhole?"

"Yes, sir.  The Captain has a…unique ability, and is able to open wormholes at will, or transport himself interdimensionally.  There is a full report included in the evidence submitted by the defense."

"I see."

"Continue, Commander," said Nechayev.

"Yes, sir.  As we learned, the forces present within a wormhole, which we can replicate, will destroy tornados.  Thus, we now have a means to dissipate them.   Also, the _Berlin_'s science officer is even now testing a hypothesis on how to track them.  So the Captain completed his mission as it was assigned.

"But more than that, he gave the Federation a new asset, which is desperately needed.  By assisting the defense of Planet Arus, the Captain established good relations with the Galaxy Alliance, an organization not unlike the Federation.  The representatives of the Alliance expressed an interest in establishing a diplomatic exchange with the Federation, and even requested aid from us.  This implies that they are willing to make concessions in exchange."

"Your Honor?" Seville said, cutting in.

"Yes, Commander?"

"The last I knew, sir, this was a courtroom, not the Federation Council Chamber.  The points that the defense is expounding upon are purely hypothetical.  And it cannot be forgotten that Captain Driscoll, a representative of the Federation, attacked the Doom forces without cause or provocation."

"Your Honor, there was no way the Doom ships could have associated _Thunderwing_, the Captain's fighter, with the Federation.  It bears no Starfleet markings.  If anything, Doom would declare war against the United States, whose national insignia the aircraft bears."

"But the Captain's name is on the side of the fighter," said Seville.  "And he identified himself to the Prince of Doom during the encounter between the _Berlin_ and five Doom warships."

"Even so," said MacRabb, "Doom ships are no match for Federation starships.  The _Berlin_, with much less powerful weaponry than a standard vessel, disabled three of their ships within a few moments."

MacRabb paused to regain his train of thought.  "We all know that the Dominion War is not going well.  There are changelings even on Earth.  And suppose Earth is ever attacked.  Suppose the Sol system is lost.  What then?

"What if we could, within a few hours, relocate all of the core personnel of the Federation Council and Starfleet to a safe location?  We can.

"The wormhole is defensible.  Captain Driscoll can even close it, if necessary.  This could be a tremendous opportunity for us.  We could build shipyards, offices, a whole starbase complex, and they would be safer than anything in the Alpha Quadrant."

Once again, Seville cut in.  "I would remind the court that none of what the defense is saying is certain.  It is all contingent on as-yet-nonexistent agreements and treaties.  And also, it must not be forgotten that the Galaxy Alliance is at war with the Doom and Drule Empires.  If we allied with them, we would also gain enemies.  Ones with close access to Earth itself."

"But a relatively few ships could hold off a sizeable force of Doom ships."

"But they do not rely on their ships alone.  They have cybernetic organisms known as robeasts that are impervious to our weapons.  If one of them ever got to Earth, it could be devastating.

"And don't forget, the Captain was knighted by the ruler of Arus as a reward for helping the Voltron Force.  He not only broke regulations, but he committed an act of treason."

"Captain Driscoll did not swear allegiance to Arus," MacRabb countered.  "He accepted the title only after he explained that his duty was to Starfleet.  He is no traitor, and there is no regulation against Starfleet officers accepting commendations from other governments."

MacRabb waited to see if Seville would counter his argument.  When he did not, MacRabb continued.  "Captain Driscoll violated regulations.  Six times.  We don't deny that.  What we deny is that it had any negative consequences on the Federation

"When James Kirk stole the _Enterprise_, he too was charged, and rightly so.  But he saved Earth, even as he was returning to face those changes.  Captain Driscoll isn't James Kirk, but his actions saved Earth, and perhaps gave the Federation a much-needed break.  We ask that you consider this in deciding the Captain's fate.  The defense rests."

The room was silent as MacRabb took his seat, then Admiral Louvois said, "Does the prosecution have anything to say?"

"I do, sir," said Seville, rising.  "Captain Driscoll is not the first commander to use Captain Kirk's actions to appeal to the court.  Having been trained by Kirk and his crew, he's perhaps even more likely than most to invoke the legendary Kirk.

"However, the fact remains, he has violated regulations.  That is the essence of this case, and the defense does not contest that.  We ask the court not to be swayed by the pretty pictures the defense has tried to paint.  They are pure speculation.  That the Captain pled guilty to six breaches of conduct is fact."

Seville sat down, and the room was silent.

Nechayev looked around at her fellow admirals, and then addressed the attorneys and Captain Driscoll.  "We will take a recess to deliberate.  This court-martial will reconvene tomorrow at 1500 hours."

A chime sounded, and everyone rose as the admirals filed out of the room. 

Driscoll turned to MacRabb.  "Thanks, Commander."

"Don't thank me yet.  I still don't think you've got a prayer.  If we'd gone the way I'd suggested, we'd have a better chance."  
  


"Maybe.  But this is how it's gotta be."

***********************************************************************************************

"I say he gets fifteen years in New Zealand."  Lieutenant Peter Collins was talking with his friend, Lieutenant Hong Chi in the mess hall aboard the _Berlin_.  News of the Captain's tribunal spread like wildfire aboard the ship, and speculation about the outcome ran rampant.

"Come on, Pete.  We're in a war.  He'll be removed from command and get a desk job."

"No way, Hong.  Even with a good deal, he'll still be going for a long vacation."

From another part of the room, Doctor Saladin overheard the men and approached them as they bickered.  He bent over their table.  "That's enough, both of you.  Until Starfleet says otherwise, Captain Driscoll is still the commanding officer of this ship, and you should be supporting him, not betting on his fate."

"Yes, sir," Collins said sheepishly.

Saladin nodded and left the two men to finish their meal and headed for sickbay.  The conversation he'd just interrupted was typical of those to be heard on the ship.  And even the optimistic doctor had to admit that the situation did not look good.

**********************************************************************************************

"All rise," the bailiff called as the five admirals filed back into the room.  They had deliberated long into the night and part of that morning, considering what action should be taken against Captain Driscoll, his admission of guilt taking care of the "if" part.

At issue had been the circumstances posed by the defense.  Some of the members of the tribunal thought the points raised were quite valid.  Others sided with Commander Seville.

Their decision had been one of compromise.  None of the admirals wanted to let Driscoll off, but not all wanted him completely destroyed, either.  They had debated, interpreted, and reasoned until they were blue (or other colors) in the face, considering flight logs, the data from the Doom ships, the information provided by the Voltron Force, and the logs of the _Berlin_'s command crew, among other things.  Their decision was not fully accepted by all, but it was satisfactory.

"Be seated," Nechayev said.  "We have considered the arguments of both the prosecution and the defense, as well as the evidence presented to the court.  The defendant, Captain Adam C. Driscoll has pled guilty to the charges against him.  However, the case presented for mitigating circumstances has given us as much work in deliberation as any determination of guilt.

"This tribunal was convened to find the truth.  It is the truth that Captain Driscoll willingly violated six standing regulations.  It is also the truth that he and his crew completed their mission as it was assigned.  In fact, there were many truths in this case.  All were relevant, and all were important to our deliberations.  It wasn't easy to reach a decision, but we have."

"Will the defendant please rise?" said Louvois.

Driscoll and MacRabb stood as Nechayev spoke.  "Captain Driscoll, you have pled guilty to all six charges against you.  We have considered your case thoroughly, and we have reached the following decision."

Driscoll took a deep breath and prepared to hear the worst.

*********************************************************************************************

_She stood on the edge of a cliff.  Below her, a wide, flat plain extended to the horizon.  Down on the plain, she saw a pride of five lions.  One black, one blue, one yellow, one green, and one red.  Allura had seen them before, and recognized them immediately.  They were the spirits of the Voltron Lions._

_And they were restless._

_She looked around, trying to figure out what was disturbing them, and saw a pack of strange, blue wolves approaching.  The pride and the pack squared off, and the wolves surged forward.  The lions met the attack head-on, and fought bravely, but they were simply outnumbered._

_Then, out of nowhere, a white horse came charging into the fray, kicking and biting at the wolves, and sowing confusion in their ranks.  The wolves, dazed and disoriented by the new attack, fell back to regroup, but the battle was lost.  The lions and the horse gave them no time to reorganize, and the wolves fled._

_The horse reared and whinnied in triumph, then turned and trotted away._

_But no sooner was the horse gone from sight than the wolves returned, and in greater numbers.  Comin in behind the lions, they rushed forward, catching the cats by surprise.  The lions fought well, but the wolves' numerical superiority was just too much and, again, the lions became overwhelmed._

_But as the wolves were preparing for the kill, a loud cry echoed across the plain, and the horse returned.  The wolves were again surprised, but they held together this time.  Even so, the fortunes of battle were shifting.  The horse kept the wolves off the lions, leaving the felines free to counterattack the canines.  And again, the wolves were pushed back until they fled, yelping in defeat._

_The lions stood their ground warily for a time, until they were satisfied that the wolves would not return, then began to move away.  Curiously, though, the horse didn't leave.  It stayed with the lions.  It had become part of the pride._

*********************************************************************************************

Allura awoke with a start.  The dream she'd just had, it meant something.  But what? 

Allura often had dreams like this, which carried strange but important messages.  Sometimes her father, King Alfor, spoke to her.  Other times, as now, it was the spirits of the lions, trying to guide her.  But that horse…

She had never seen it before.  She had never seen a horse in her dreams, and horses didn't usually like lions, but this wild horse, this mustang…

_That's it!_ She thought.  _A Mustang!_  The horse was symbolic of Captain Driscoll and his Mustang fighter.  It helped the lions fight off the wolves, then left, as Driscoll had.

But it came back again.  And she understood the meaning of her dream.  The horse came back, and so would Driscoll.

She just hoped it would be soon.


	12. A New Alliance

Disclaimer:  I don't own Voltron, Star Trek, or any characters mentioned here that are cannon to either franchise.  What I do own are the fighter, Thunderwing, and the crew of the Berlin, except for Mordock.  The rest I'm just borrowing for a while.

_RedLion2-You're getting a little ahead of me.  You'll just have to wait and see what happens later on.  There will be more Star Tron after this, so stay tuned._

Star Tron:

The Black Suits Cometh

Chapter 12 

At the Miramar Shuttleport on Earth, the first light of morning painted the sky in rich hues of red and gold.  Captain Driscoll stood at the door of the old hangar and watched the sunrise for a while, before heading in.

The room was nearly empty, except for some miscellaneous equipment along one wall, and a P-51D fighter sitting proudly in the center.  _Thunderwing_ had been delivered overnight by a transport ship.  Driscoll could have just beamed up to the _Berlin_, but he'd been out of his cockpit for too long.

He walked up to the plane and patted the side of the nose as if it were a horse, then climbed onto the wing.  He studied the three red skull emblems painted on the rim of the cockpit for the three Doom fighters he'd downed.  As he did, he reflected on the events of the past day.

Driscoll had expected to be immediately dismissed from Starfleet, but he was wrong.  The sentence Nechayev passed was that he be removed from command and serve a sentence of five years on a penal colony before being dishonorably discharged from Starfleet.

But then, in the next breath, Nechayev suspended the sentence, pending the outcome of his next mission.  The down side was that, no matter the outcome, he was to be denied any further opportunity for promotion.  He would never rise above captain, no matter how long he served.  His rank was frozen.

Not that that bothered him.  He had no ambitions to the admiralty to begin with.  He didn't even think he'd be in Starfleet long enough to make it, rank-freeze or no.

So, he climbed into his cockpit, put on his helmet and mask, and taxied out.  This time, there were no gawking Red Squad cadets.  There was only a man, his plane, and the wild blue yonder.  And as the old fighter left the runway and took to the air, Driscoll thought about the mission ahead of him.

The assignment he had been given was to return to Arus and defend the wormhole.  While there, he would act as a liaison between the Federation and the Galaxy Alliance, and help work out a treaty between the two powers.  Once that was done, he would be responsible for guarding the Federation's interests in the Denubian Dimension.  It was a big job, but the young Captain felt more than equal to it.

And mixed with that confidence was a measure of pride as well.  He had been able to make good on his promise to Allura.  Maybe Nechayev respected his promise, or perhaps the brass only wanted to grease a few wheels, but the _Berlin_ would be followed within a few days by a _Deneva_-class transport ship loaded with humanitarian aid goods, including replicators, food, and medical supplies, among other things.

As he approached his ship, Driscoll thought of something Kirk once told him that seemed to be very true to the circumstances he now faced.  "Adam," he'd said, "the most important thing about command, about being _in_ command, is that you can make a difference."

And Driscoll knew that now, on this assignment, he could make a big difference.

**********************************************************************************************

The alarm klaxons shattered the peace of the Castle of Lions, and sent the Voltron Force scrambling to the Control Room to investigate.  Before any of them could ask, Coran announced, "Doom attack force approaching Arus.  One battleship and a squadron of fighters."

"Have they launched a robeast?" Keith asked, scanning the readouts over Coran's shoulder.

"Not yet," Coran replied.

"Okay guys, let's go," said Keith, leading the way to the launch tubes.

***********************************************************************************************

The Lions quickly formed up over the Castle and headed up to engage the fighters.  Over one hundred of the small ships dove on the Lions, embroiling them in a chaotic melee.  For the most part, the Lions had the better end of it, but none of the pilots noticed that they were being drawn farther from the castle, nor did they see the space coffin launch from the battleship and head for the ground.

***********************************************************************************************

"The robeast has landed, sire," Haggar said, stroking her blue cat.  "It can attack at any time."

Lotor nodded.  "I can see that.  We'll hold off for a while and let the fighters wear down the Voltron Force."

"But you know they cannot last long.  The Lions are simply too powerful."

Lotor thought a moment.  Voltron would be easier to defeat if he were weakened when he formed, but he could still prevail.  But then…

"Perhaps you're right, Haggar.  Deploy the robeast!" Lotor commanded.

*********************************************************************************************

Coran's eyes went wide as he scanned the sensor displays.  The Lions had already destroyed several dozen fighters, but that wasn't what had surprised him.  His shock stemmed from the giant robeast approaching the castle.  Not only had the space coffin landed undetected, but the Doom battleship had used the growth ray an enlarged the robeast without his knowing.

This one was more human-like than the last.  It looked something like a gladiator, with blood red eyes and an overall dark blue color.  Its armor was black, and the left hand had blades for fingers.  The right hand was not a hand at all, but a great hammer.  Spike protruded from the robeast's shoulders, knees, elbows, and chestplate, while a series of smaller ones ran down its back and studded its helmet.

"Voltron Force, there is a robeast approaching the Castle," Coran warned.

"Roger, Coran," Keith replied.  "We're on our way."

Coran looked again at his sensors, trying to gather all the information he could to relay to the Voltron Force, when he noticed another ship approaching Arus.  He waited nervously for the identification, but when it came, he breathed a sigh of relief.  This ship was a most welcome arrival indeed.

***********************************************************************************************

"Approaching Arus, Captain," Mordock announced as the ship cleared the wormhole.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Driscoll replied.  "Standard orbit please, Mr. Curtis."

"Aye, sir," the southerner drawled.

"Sir," Mordock called.  "I'm detecting weapons fire on the surface of Arus, near the Castle."

"Confirmed," said Singh.  "There are two energy patterns, and one is consistent with Doom weapons."

"We're being hailed but the Castle of Lions," said Jacobs.

"Onscreen, T.J."  Driscoll rose from his seat and approached the viewer as Coran's image appeared there.  "What's wrong, Coran?"

"We're under attack.  There is a robeast on the ground, and a group of fighters is preventing the Lions from forming Voltron.  We could use any help you can give us."

"We're coming, Coran.  ETA…"

"Three minutes," Curtis chimed in.

"You get that?" Driscoll asked.

"I did.  Please hurry, Captain."  The channel closed and Driscoll whirled around on his heel.  "Driscoll to shuttlebay, load two torpedoes onto _Thunderwing_ and stand be for launch.  He turned to Gredar.  "The ship is yours, Commander."  The captain headed for the turbolift and was about to step on when Gredar said, "Captain?"

Driscoll stopped and turned, expecting his first officer to protest his actions.  Gredar's next words, though, shocked the captain.  "Good hunting," the Gorn rasped.

Driscoll smiled and gave him a thumbs-up, then boarded the lift.

***********************************************************************************************

On the planet below, the battle between the Lions and the fighters had become a running dogfight as the Lions tried to reach the robeast, and the fighters tried to stop them.  The Voltron Force had destroyed most of the fighters, but their job had only gotten tougher, as the few fighters remaining were the fastest and nimblest, and flown by the best pilots.  Every time the Lions tried to turn and attack the robeast, the fighters would swoop in, lasers blazing, and force the Lions to turn and defend themselves.

Lance was struggling with the four on his tail, unable to shake them.  He'd used Red Lion's tail laser to damage one, but they weren't falling for it again.  The lead fighter swung in, preparing to fire, and Lance readied his tail laser, hoping to catch the fighter off-guard as it fired.

Just then, a hail of red energy bolts rained down on the fighter, setting it ablaze as it careened out of control toward the ground.

"That's four!" Lance heard over the radio, accompanied by rock music in the background.

"Dinoman?" Lance called.

"I told ya I owed ya one, Lance.  Now let's clear the rest of these fart-knockers outta here," the captain replied.

"Sounds good to me," said Lance.

With Red Lion now free of pursuers, and with the addition of _Thunderwing_, the fortunes of battle shifted.  One by one, they rid the other Lions of their attackers, and once the fighters were gone, the six craft turned their attentions to the robeast.

The Lions made a direct attack, focusing their firepower on the robeast.  Driscoll, rather than dive-bombing the robeast as he had before, fired his torpedoes at the monster, putting both right into the robeast's face and sending it over backwards.

"Good shooting, Captain," said Keith as Driscoll jettisoned the launchers.  "Now, while the robeast's down, let's form Voltron."

"Activate interlocks.  Dynotherms connected.  Infracells up, megathrusters are go!"

"Let's go Voltron Force," the six pilots chorused.

"Form feet and legs.  Form arms and body," Keith commanded.  He was about to call for the head, when he remembered another element that had yet to join up.  "_Thunderwing _interface."

Once again, Driscoll felt the tractor beam lock on and pull his plane into Voltron's back.  Once there, he began sending extra power to the megathrusters and shielding.

"And I'll form the head," Keith finished as the formation sequence completed and a mighty roar shook the air.

By now, the robeast had staggered to his feet, dazed and angry.  But the little mosquito that stung him was gone.  No matter.  He would take his frustrations out on Voltron.

The gladiator charged, preparing to strike with its hammer hand.  "Dodge it!" Keith ordered, and Voltron dodged to the side just in time.  "Lion torch!" Lance announced, using Red Lion's flamethrower to attack the robeast from behind.

The robeast spun around, swinging its blade-fingered hand in a wide arc.  The fingers flew off, spinning like shirakins toward Voltron.  "Jump!" said Keith, and the robot warrior leapt nimbly into the air, avoiding the attack.

But the finger-blades whirled around like boomerangs and struck Voltron in the back.  If not for the increased shield power, he'd have been ripped apart.  As it was, Voltron fell to his knees, and the pilots were severely rattled.

Sensing his chance, the robeast charged again, intending to strike Voltron with his hammer.

Recovering from the shock of the impact, Pidge said, "We gotta move, guys."

Keith looked at the robeast.  "Ready on my mark," he commanded.  The timing would have to be perfect.  The robeast closed and began to swing his hand down.  "Block!"

Voltron's hands came up, crossed, and caught the robeast's arm.

"And kick!" said Hunk as Voltron's left foot kicked the robeast in the chest, sending him flying back.

Voltron stood as Keith said, "Form Blazing Sword!"

Voltron's hands clapped together, and the sword formed between them as they parted.  Green Lion gave a mighty roar, and the warrior stood, poised to strike.

The robeast staggered back to its feet, and the titans squared off.  Suddenly, the robeast lunged with its hammer in a last, desperate attack.

But Voltron was quicker.  He sidestepped the attack as Keith said, "Strike!"  The sword severed the hammer hand at the elbow, and decapitated the robeast on the return, then slashed it in two with a third strike.

The headless, one-handed hulk stood there a moment, motionless, before exploding violently, showering debris all over the countryside and pushing Voltron away with the sheer force.

***********************************************************************************************

"No!" Lotor exclaimed.  "Haggar!  What is the meaning of this?"  
  


"My robeast!" the witch lamented.  "There was no way it could lose!"

"Well it did," Lotor growled.  "Full retreat," he ordered.  "Return to Castle Doom."  
***********************************************************************************************

In _Thunderwing_'s cockpit, still integrated with Voltron, Gredar's voice rasped over the open comm channel.  "_Lotor is leaving, sir.  Shall we pursue_?"

Driscoll thought a moment before replying,  "Negative.  Stand down alert.  I think the worst is over for now."

A few moments later, _Thunderwing_ was ejected from Voltron's back as the warrior broke up into the separate vehicles again.  As he spun earthwards, Driscoll saw flames and smoke below.  After unfolding the wings and pulling out of the dive, he circled around, surveying the damage in the village below.  "Looks bad down there."

"This happens too often," said Allura.  "The robeast went right through that village."

"Come on, guys.  Let's see if we can give them a hand," said Keith, leading the Lions down to land.

"I'll do ya one better," said Driscoll.  "_Thunderwing_ to _Berlin_, we've got some problems down here.  That robeast tore up a village.  Get together some med teams and whoever else you can spare and send 'em down."

"Acknowledged," Gredar replied.

***********************************************************************************************

A few hours later, Doctor Saladin walked up to Keith, Allura, and Driscoll, who were standing in the village square.  Most of the work of checking destroyed houses and tending to casualties was done, and he said so to the Captain.  "By the good will of Allah, there were no deaths, and most of the injuries were not severe."

Driscoll clapped him on the shoulder.  "Thanks, Sheik.  You can start beaming up when you're ready."

"Aye, sir."  He nodded to Allura and Keith, then headed back to gather the _Berlin_ crewmen and prepare to return to the ship.

The Captain turned back to his companions.  All three were dirty from soot and mud, and bore more than a few scratches and cuts from their efforts.  "I guess that's about it, then."

Allura nodded.  "Thanks, Adam.  We really appreciate your help."

"Hey, I didn't do nothin'.  It was my men that did the hard stuff.  But there'll be more help coming.  I managed to convince the Federation to help you guys out."  He explained to them briefly about the outcome of the tribunal and the aid the Federation was sending.

When he finished, Keith and Allura looked at each other before Keith asked, "So you're going to be helping us after all?"

"That's about the size of it."  Driscoll replied.

"In that case, I'd like to talk to you at the castle when you get the time."

"Sure.  I'll meet you there later tonight."

Keith nodded, and the three pilots split up, heading for their craft.

***********************************************************************************************

It was late in the evening and two of Arus' three moons shone brightly overhead as two shimmering columns appeared outside the Castle of Lions and coalesced into the forms of Captain Driscoll and Commander Gredar.  They were escorted into the castle and led to a conference room where the Voltron Force and Coran awaited them.  After everyone was seated, Driscoll asked, "So what's up, Keith?"

"Well, one thing I wanted to ask you is what, exactly, your orders are," Keith replied.

The captain could see the wheels turning in Keith's head.  Something was going on, and he had a suspicion as to what that was.

"Well, without getting' into a whole lotta nitty-gritty, we're supposed to hammer out a treaty with you guys, well, the Alliance anyway, and then defend Federation interests in this dimension.  Which, I'm sure, will include Arus.  Besides that, we're supposed to do the usual flying around and exploring."

"What about Doom?" Lance asked.

"Don't fire unless fired upon.  And at that point I open up a can of whup-ass.  Starfleet don't want a war with Doom, but I think that's inevitable.  Not that they'd be much threat."

"What about you personally?" asked Keith.

"What about me?" Driscoll replied, beginning to get annoyed by Keith's questions.  "I'm in charge of completing this mission.  I command the ship, make the big decisions, the whole captain thing."

Keith nodded.  He sensed the Captain's irritation, and seeing Allura's questioning glance, decided to get to the point.  "Before you left, I said we could use a pilot like you.  And today you became an ace."

"Plus two," Allura chimed in.

"What I wanted to know, Adam, was if you would reconsider our offer," said Keith.  

"Adam, you can't deny that you and _Thunderwing_ have proven to be valuable members of the team," said Allura.  "You've helped us a lot."

"True," Driscoll agreed.  He glanced at his first officer before continuing.  "I had a feeling something like this was on your mind."  That was why he brought Gredar.  He intended to join, but everything had to be above board, or he'd find himself on the slow train to Sing-Sing.  And also, he saw this as the first of many negotiations that would eventually lead to a treaty between the Federation and the Alliance.   He turned to the Gorn.  "You see any problems, Commander?"

Gredar was silent a moment, thinking.  "I would remind you, sir, that your responsibility is to the ship and her mission.  But such an allegiance would be in keeping with our orders."

Driscoll nodded and turned to Keith.  "Here's the deal, Keith.  If you want me, I'll join, but I've gotta say a few things.  One, my duty is to Starfleet first.  If there's a conflict, that's where I go.  Two, I'll follow your orders when I'm with you, but your authority ends with me and _Thunderwing_.  And three, _Thunderwing_ is mine.  If I leave, she goes too."

Keith listened carefully to each condition.  When he'd heard them all, he nodded.  "Agreed."  He rose and approached Driscoll with his hand out, and the Captain rose and took it in a firm grip.  .

"So when's practice?" Driscoll asked.

"Zero-five-thirty, castle time.  Your position will be on Allura's wing." Driscoll glanced at Allura and she smiled at him, and he returned it.

"I'll see you up there," Driscoll said, still looking at Allura.

***********************************************************************************************

Thus it was the next morning that the Voltron Force was joined by _Thunderwing_, which now sported seven red skulls on the cockpit rim and the buzz number VF6 on either side.  In days of old, aircraft marked "VF" had belonged to the USAAF's 336th fighter squadron.  But now, in the skies of Arus, it meant something else.

The six craft practiced maneuvering and attacking in the dim light of morning, with _Thunderwing_ sticking to Blue Lion like ugly on Haggar through maneuvers perfect and those less so.  Keith saw this and was put at ease.  Allura now had a wingman, and a good one.  He knew she'd be safe.

Finally, practice ended, and the six pilots decided on some fun and raced off east into the rising sun.  And as they flew into the dawn of a new day on Arus, they also flew into a new chapter in history.  One full of great promise and hope for the future.  Though many battles lay ahead, they knew they'd be victorious thanks to old friends, new allies, and Voltron, Defender of the Universe.

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Thanks to everyone who reviewed this story.  I hope you enjoyed it.  There will be more Star Tron coming soon, so stay tuned.


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